


EMhOhk 


jSS^igS 

KjW^VywW 


ssxsMs** 




ËraMli 

imWM 


: >Mw 


T3TO 


r |> { ff*-; 'i* ^jV 

•^••j ^'4^** ** 

*l\ /j^ /j\ 

.<*> *i\ /|\ ^iCJVt^p 

IM 

— — — — 





LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Ifta 

Shelf. .^.Ca.2> ' 38 SS/ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



4 ê 


% 



Frontispiece 


The Prisoner Rescued 


Page 355 





WALTER HARMSEN 


A TALE OF 

REFORMATION -TIMES IN HOLLAND, 



BY 


E. GERDE8. 

»» 


TRANSLATED FROM THE DUTCH 

By REV. DANIEL VAN PELT. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION, 

No. 1334 CHESTNUT STREET. 





COPYRIGHT, 1886, BY 

THE TRUSTEES OF THE 

PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION. 


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 


Westcott & Thomson, 
Stereotypers and Electrotypers , Philada. 




CONTENTS 


3 


CHAPTEE I. 

PAGE 

Our Hero Introduced II 

CHAPTER II. 

A Few Explanations 24 

CHAPTER III. 

A Desolated Home 35 

CHAPTER IV. 

A Night-Scene 46 

CHAPTER V. 

Strange Sights and Sounds 71 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Word of God in Fragments 91 

3 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VII. 

PAGE 

The Dawning of a New Light 112 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Charity Conquers 124 

CHAPTER IX. 

Dirk Chooses a Profession 139 

CHAPTER X. 

The House in the Woods 152 

CHAPTER XI. 

A Battle on the Sea . 172 

CHAPTER XII. 

A Rainy Day . 182 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Troublesome Companions 191 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A Peep into History 202 

CHAPTER XV. 

Old Acquaintance Renewed 210 


CONTENTS. 


5 


CHAPTER XVI. 

PAGE 

Consultations 218 

CHAPTER XVII. 

A Formidable Dwarf 232 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Differences of Opinion 243 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Camp of the Anabaptists 253 

CHAPTER XX. 

The Kingdom through Tribulation 272 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The Crazed Fugitive 284 

CHAPTER XXII. 

At the Town-Hall 293 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Counterplots 306 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

A Frightened Priest 316 


6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

PAGE 

Preaching in the Open Air 324 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

The Assault 333 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Joris at Work 342 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The Dead come to Life 350 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Reunions and Farewells 357 


TRANSLATOR’S NOTE. 




The author of the following tale is well and 
favorably known in his native country as the 
writer of stories illustrating the progress of the 
Reformation in Holland. The present little work 
bears directly upon the establishment of the Re- 
formed Church in the United Provinces of the 
Dutch republic. In the narrative, at first we see 
the Church still “ under the cross ” * when the strug- 
gle for national existence was yet going on in the 
very heart of Holland ; but toward the latter part of 
the story we reach the period when the Church was 
assuming definite shape as an organized ecclesias- 
tical body and obtaining recognition as a State- 
Church — features which did not fully belong to it, 

*In the year 1568 (the first of the “Eighty Years’ War,” 
1568-1648) the Church adopted the following name: “The 
Netherland Churches which sit Under the Oi'oss and are scat- 
tered within and without the Netherlands.” 


7 


8 


TRANSLATOR'S NOTE. 


perhaps, till at or after the famous Synod of Dort. 
As is well known, there exists in the United States 
a lineal descendant of that Reformed Church of 
Holland, long designated by the same title in Eng- 
lish that it bears in the mother-codntry — “ Protes- 
tant Reformed Dutch Church ” — but now styled 
“The Reformed (Dutch) Church in America.” 
While, then, the following story is eminently in- 
teresting and instructive from a merely religious 
standpoint, it will also interest and instruct those 
who love to trace the dealings of the Lord in the 
history of his Church on earth. 

The author, writing for a Holland public, natu- 
rally took for granted a knowledge of the history 
of the country much more universal than can be 
expected to exist among our American public, even 
though we possess the brilliant volumes of Motley. 
It was thought expedient, therefore, to add an origi- 
nal chapter (Chapter II.), and also to make addition 
to another chapter (XVII.), to place the American 
reader in ready possession of the historical situation 
in the midst of which the events of the tale are 
supposed to occur. 

The translation has been made throughout as 
free as was consistent with fidelity to the author. 


TRANSLA TOR’S NOTE. 


9 


Occasional departures from the text have been ven- 
tured upon, but always with a view to the altered 
conditions, as to both country and language, under 
which the work must now needs hope to win the 
interest and attention of a reading public. Most 
of the original chapters have been divided into two 
and new titles given them, to render the perusal 
more convenient. D. V. P. 



WALTER HARMSEN. 


CHAPTER I. 

OUR HERO INTRODUCED. 

O N one of the last days of July, 1573, a lad 
about fourteen years of age might have been 
seen cautiously wending his way across some wheat- 
fields in the Netherlands. Now and then he stood 
and looked carefully around, as though he feared 
some one was observing him. It was a warm day, 
and the position of the sun showed that it was near- 
ly twelve o’clock. Large drops of sweat trickled 
down the boy’s forehead from beneath his broad- 
brimmed felt hat, and occasionally he stopped to 
wipe his face with the wide-puffed sleeves of his 
light-brown jacket. At length he reached the last 
field where the golden grain waved in graceful 
pride, and a beam of joy sparkled in his eye. 

“ If Uncle Ruikhaver will only keep his word !” 
he muttered to himself, while he pushed aside some 
of the stalks and directed an eager glance toward 
the sandhills, at whose foot he noticed some birch 

li 


12 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


trees. “ This must be the place,” he continued, “ to 
which Uncle Ruikhaver told me a week ago to- 
day to come at this very hour. I hope nothing 
has happened to keep him from meeting me. That 
would grieve me very much, for he promised me 
that he would do his best to get some news of 
father. — Poor father !” he sighed, and a sad look 
came over his face ; “ where are you at this time ? 
Perhaps groaning in some deep dungeon into which 
the cruel Spaniards have cast you, or else resting 
in your grave after fearful tortures.” 

These thoughts filled the boy with sadness, and 
for a while he hung his head. But suddenly he 
lifted it up ; a frown darkened his brow, his eyes 
flashed in anger, he clenched his hands and raised 
them above his head, as if an enemy were really 
standing before him. 

“ Oh, you persecutors !” he said, bitterly ; “ wait 
till I get strength to use the sword ! If you have 
really tormented my father, you inhuman wretches, 
I will not rest till I have revenged myself upon 
you. Oh,” he went on, setting his teeth — “ oh, if 
I could only have my revenge now ! That would 
be the greatest delight of my heart.” 

In this defiant attitude he stood for some time, 
but before long, as if he had suddenly come to dif- 
ferent thoughts, he let his hands fall gently by his 
side, his features assumed a pleasanter expression, 
and a smile lit up his countenance. 


OUR HERO INTRODUCED. 


13 


“Revenge!” he said, slowly — “revenge! Would 
I take revenge? That would surely grieve my 
father. How often would he set me on his knee 
when mother was still living and tell me about Jesus 
Christ, who gave his life for us, and who, instead of 
taking revenge upon his enemies, prayed for them ! 
No ; I will not take revenge. It was God’s will that 
father should separate himself from me and go 
everywhere preaching the gospel, in danger of 
being murdered at any moment. And, though I 
can’t say it is so very pleasant to stay all alone 
with grandfather, away from almost everybody 
else, still — ” 

He was again getting despondent, and, muttering, 
“Where can Uncle Ruikhaver stay so long? It 
must be one o’clock, and grandfather has surely had 
dinner,” he pushed some wheat-stalks aside to see if 
his uncle was coming, when suddenly he observed 
among the birch trees opposite to him the form of 
a man, who quickly hid himself behind one of the 
thickest trees. At first he thought he had not seen 
aright; but when at the same time he perceived 
some hares running with great speed away from 
the very spot, he concluded that there really must 
be some one hiding there. 

“Who can that be?” he asked himself, “and 
why does he keep himself hid so? That means 
mischief. How fortunate that no one can see me 
here, with the stalks bending over my head in such 


14 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


a way that I can scarcely see what is going on in 
the sandhills! Still, I must be careful and keep a 
good lookout.” 

He rubbed his eyes, so as to clear them of the 
perspiration that flowed down into them from his 
forehead, and fixed his eyes intently upon the 
birch-grove. His heart beat quickly, for it seemed 
to him as if the man must know something of his 
whereabouts, and as if he had some evil purpose 
in his mind. At last the lad saw clearly that some 
of the underbrush was pushed aside, and at the same 
time he perceived the head of a man, whose eyes 
glared around in all directions. 

“ That’s the Noortdorp Fox,” said the boy, not 
without terror ; “ I know him by his red hair and 
long nose. If he is lying in wait there, it must 
surely be for some bad purpose; for everybody is 
afraid of him. I remember very well how Aggie 
told me the other day that the Noortdorp Fox 
plays the spy. He betrayed his own brother to the 
priests because he made fun of the image-worship 
of the Romish Church.” 

The boy was interrupted in his reflections by a 
new movement among the underbrush. He saw 
“ the Fox ” pushing a gun along the ground and 
placing it in a sort of rest. 

“The traitor!” muttered the boy, between his 
teeth. “ Whom can he have in aim now ? Not 
Uncle Ruikhaver? That may be;” and as the 


OUR HERO INTRODUCED. 


15 


thought struck him fear caused the blood to course 
rapidly through his veius. 

Suddenly his eye caught a new object in the 
direction of Castricum. With great swiftness it 
approached the place where he was concealed ; and 
when he could clearly discern what the object really 
was, he uttered a soft cry of joy : 

“ That is Pol, uncle’s poodle. But where is his 
master ? — Here, Pol !” he called out to the dog as 
he was about to rush past him. “ Here, Pol, Pol ! 
Here !” 

The poodle stopped at once and sniffed the air. 

“This way, Pol,” said the boy, in subdued voice, 
while he kept himself carefully concealed among 
the stalks, not forgetting the man in the birch-grove. 
“Here, Pol! It’s I !” 

The dog now seemed to recognize the voice. 
Cautiously pushing his hairy head between the 
high wheat-stalks, he went toward our lad ; and no 
sooner did he see him than he leaped upon him and 
licked his hands with every token of delight. 

“Well, Pol, what are you doing here? Where’s 
your master?” 

The dog could not answer, of course; but, look- 
ing at the boy, he set his forepaws against his 
shoulders, which Pol could easily do, as the boy 
was sitting down in the sand. 

“ What a friendly dog you are, Pol !” said the 
boy, laying his hand upon the curly head of the 


16 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


poodle. “ I only wish you could tell me why your 
master hasn’t come yet. But what’s this round 
your neck?” he continued, feeling a stout cord 
that was wound around the dog’s neck. He quickly 
untied the knot, unwound the cord, and underneath 
it discovered a piece of parchment. Hastily un- 
folding this, he found written upon it some lines 
which, to his joy, he recognized to be in his uncle’s 
handwriting. But his joy was soon changed into 
alarm when he read the following words, addressed 
to his grandfather : 

“Flee! you are betrayed. The Noortdorp Fox 
has seen that you read the Bible. Before long your 
house will be searched and you imprisoned. Again, 
flee! I cannot protect you, for 1 must remain at 
Heilo, where the prince of Orange has sent me to 
assist Alkmaar. God be with you ! He is near.” 

The poor boy knew not whether he was awake or 
dreaming. He reflected for a moment, while Pol 
kept rubbing his hairy head against his cheeks. 

“ That Noortdorp Fox !” he said. “ The traitor ! 
What has poor grandfather done to him ? ‘ Flee,’ 

writes uncle, but where to? I cannot move myself 
here but this same Noortdorp Fox will see me. I 
don’t know what to do ; and yet it is high time that 
I get away from here. It is about two miles to 
grandfather’s house, and so I had better go and 
warn him. — And where will you go?” said he to 
the poodle, who watched him as attentively as a 


O UB HEB O INTBODUCED. 


17 


child listening to its teacher. “ Wait; I’ll tear off 
the last line of uncle’s note and tie the parchment 
again round your neck. Then uncle will see that 
you have done your errand all right. Now, Pol, 
go home. Pun !” he whispered, sharply, to the 
dog. 

At these decisive words Pol darted away, soon 
cleared the wheatfield, and ran off toward the sand- 
hills in the direction of Heilo. The lad observed 
how his head almost touched the sand as the poodle 
was following his former tracks by means of his 
acute scent. 

Bang ! There came a shot from the birch trees. 
For a moment the boy trembled for his life ; but 
when he had assured himself that this shot was not 
meant for him, he looked anxiously in the direction 
which Pol had taken. The poodle had indeed been 
the object of the Noortdorp Fox’s aim, yet it seem- 
ed that the bullet had injured the dog but slightly. 
Pol indeed limped a little on three legs, but he had 
probably been under fire before, for he bounded 
away on his three legs even more rapidly than on 
four a while ago. 

“ Ah ! you missed him, traitor !” said the boy, ex- 
ultantly. “But you’ll get your pay yet. Wait till 
you get into Uncle Ruikhaver’s hands!” 

He would have said more, but, to his terror, he 
perceived that the Noortdorp Fox, after loading 
his gun, left the birch-grove and came straight to- 
2 


18 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


ward his hiding-place. At first he was about to 
creep on hands and feet through the waving grain, 
but, considering that this would avail him little, as 
the Fox would no doubt discover his tracks, he con- 
cluded it was best to remain quietly where he was. 
He hid the piece of parchment as quickly as possi- 
ble in the wide folds of his jacket, and as he did so 
he found, to his great delight, a dagger given him 
by Geertsen, the hunter, in the left pocket of his 
waistcoat. He grasped it firmly in his right hand, 
and, recalling Uncle Ruikhaver’s last line, he bowed 
his head, saying, “ God is near !” 

“So he is,” echoed a powerful voice close by him. 

The lad turned around, and saw, to his joy, Geert 
Geertsen, the hunter of Rooswyck house, with 
whom he had spent many a happy hour, and who 
had told him so many thrilling stories about the 
events of the times. 

“ How did you come here ?” 

“Hush!” said Geertsen; “keep still! Do you 
not see who is watching us ? But let him come ; I 
have both my pistols ready for him.” 

“But you’ll not kill him?” 

“ Only in the utmost necessity, although I would 
gladly be driven to that necessity ; for oh, the trai- 
tor !” 

Meanwhile, the Noortdorp Fox had come near- 
er ; holding the long firearm in both hands, he ad- 
vanced slowly. At first sight one would say that 


OUR HERO INTRODUCED. 


19 


he was cross-eyed, for, while the one eye looked to- 
ward the east, the other looked westward. This was, 
however, nothing but a habit: with his evil heart 
and his guilty conscience, he constantly imagined that 
an enemy was pursuing him. He was also unceas- 
ingly occupied in spying out persecuted Protestants 
and betraying them to those in the service of the 
Spanish government and the Romish Church. 

“ There he comes,” whispered Geert Geertsen ; 
“ keep still.” 

The Fox came nearer and nearer. He had al- 
ready reached the low sandhill which separated him 
from the field where our two friends were concealed, 
when Geertsen suddenly sprang to his feet and ran 
straight upon the Fox, holding a pistol in each 
hand. 

“ Hold !” he called out to him. 

The Fox grew pale with fright at beholding 
thus unexpectedly his dreaded enemy, the hunter of 
Rooswyck. Involuntarily he obeyed the command 
of the hunter, and stood as if rooted to the ground. 
Nevertheless, he kept hold of his weapon, and even 
made a slight movement with it. 

“ Put down that weapon,” cried Geert Geertsen, 
with emphasis, “ and stir not, or as surely as the 
duke of Alva is a villain I will shoot you through 
your traitor-head !” 

The Fox, however, did not seem to feel at all 
disposed to obey, for with a rapid movement he 


20 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


aimed his piece at the hunter. But the latter, ac- 
customed to such manoeuvres and alert as the deer, 
stooped down and quick as thought threw himself 
headlong upon the Fox and hurled him with great 
force into the sand. In the same instant Geert- 
sen seized him by the throat and placed a pistol 
to his heart, and, calling out to him, “ Pray for 
your soul, traitor !” was about to kill him, when 
of a sudden the lad threw both arms around the 
hunter’s neck and besought him to spare the man’s 
life. 

“ I do it of necessity,” answered the hunter. 
“ He has brought so many of our faith to the death 
that it would give me pleasure to make him swal- 
low a leaden pill.” 

“But, then, may you revenge yourself?” asked 
the lad ; and his voice trembled a little, as if he 
were afraid that such words did not befit a boy’s 
mouth. 

“No; true enough. But the Lord delays his 
vengeance so long !” 

“How do you know that? Do you not believe 
that the Lord’s vengeance will fall some time? 
Doesn’t he say, ‘ Vengeance is mine’?” 

“You are right,” replied the hunter; “I will 
therefore leave vengeance with the Lord. But still 
the wretch shall know that he has been in my power, 
the detestable spy ! I will only cut off his ears, 
and then let him go.” 


OUR HERO INTRODUCED. 


21 


The Fox grew pale and stammered some words 
of “ mercy ” and “ pity.” 

u Be silent, villain,” spoke the hunter, “ or I’ll 
cut off your long nose too.” 

He was indeed preparing to inflict this punish- 
ment upon the persecutors’ spy, when the lad once 
more spoke a good word for the enemy and re- 
quested Geertsen not to do it. 

“ If you knew what I know, boy,” said the 
hunter, “you would not ask this.” 

The Fox began to get some hope, and again 
stammered the word “ mercy.” 

“ Be still !” commanded Geert Geertsen. “ Thank 
God and this lad that I do not follow up my inten- 
tions. But you won’t get off so easily. Hear what 
I tell you, and woe to you if you don’t do what I 
say !” 

The Fox spoke not a word. 

“ First, then,” continued the hunter, “ turn your- 
self so that you lie with your nose in the sand ; 
next I will bind your arms on your back, and then 
you may go back to your traitorous hole of Noort- 
dorp to make known there the fearful deed which 
Geert Geertsen has done to you, you assassin !” 

The Fox gnashed his teeth with rage, and did 
not at once obey the command. 

“You won’t do it? Well, then, off with your 
ears; for you know the saying goes, ‘ Those that 
won’t hear must feel.’” 


22 


WALTER HA RMS EK 


The Noortdorp Fox grew pale with rage, but, 
seeing that he was no match for the hunter of 
Rooswyck, he quietly turned himself around and 
let Geertsen bind both arms on his back with a 
stout rope. Then the hunter helped him to his feet. 

“ Now, Fox,” said Geertsen, “ take a good look at 
me. Impress my likeness deeply upon your mem- 
ory, so that you may at all times recognize me, and 
you may revenge yourself upon me if ever you 
should be happy enough to get me into your 
power. Now go toward the north. Away! out 
of my sight!” 

But the Fox did not stir ; he kept his eyes fixed 
upon the gun, that lay by him on the ground. 

“ Ah ! I understand,” said the hunter, mockingly: 
“you think I will keep your firearm. No; my 
hand is too honest to keep the murder-tool of a 
traitor ! You may take it along, and, that the car- 
rying may be easy to you, I will tie it upon your 
back, between your arms. Wait but a moment.” 

Geert Geertsen took his hunter’s bag from his 
shoulder, drew out a long rope and tied the Fox’s 
firearm on his back in a few seconds. The latter, 
fitted out in this manner, slowly wended his way 
toward Noortdorp. 

“ And now, my young friend, it is time that we 
part,” said the hunter to the boy. “You go to 
your grandfather; I will follow the villain from a 
distance, to keep an eye on him. Perhaps we shall 


OUR HERO INTRODUCED. 


23 


never see each other again, for this very night I go 
to Enkhuizen. If, however, it please God that we 
shall meet hereafter, well, then I hope it will be in 
better times. Farewell !” 

The hunter pressed the lad’s hand in his own, 
and followed the Fox, who walked on with diffi- 
culty, like a dog which has received a beating from 
his master. 


CHAPTER II. 


A FEW EXPLANATIONS. 

B EFORE we go any farther with our story, or 
accompany our new friend Walter to his home, 
our youthful readers will wish to have answers to 
some questions that no doubt are crowding to their 
lips. 

What was there about this year A. D. 1573 that 
put matters into so unsettled a condition and caused 
Walter’s uncle to write so startling a letter to his 
grandfather? Was Holland all in an uproar? and 
for what reason ? 

A few weeks before this day on which we find 
Walter Harmsen in his perilous predicament, on 
the 12th of this same month of July, 1573, the 
city of Haarlem — within a few miles of which 
Walter and his grandfather lived — had been taken 
by the Spaniards after sustaining a siege of seven 
months. On December 10, 1572, Don Frederick 
de Toledo, at the head of a Spanish army of thirty 
thousand veteran troops, had arrived before its walls 
and in the name of the king of Spain commanded 
it to open its gates and surrender. 

24 


A FEW EXPLANATIONS. 


25 


But what were these Spaniards doing in Hol- 
land? and what right had the king of Spain to 
send an army thither, and to demand the surrender 
of a city ? 

It will hardly be enough to answer that the king 
of Spain was the rightful sovereign lord of these 
Netherland provinces, for that will require a good 
many other explanations to show how this strange 
state of things came about. Let us begin by say- 
ing, then, that every one of these provinces was in 
earlier centuries either an earldom, a duchy or a 
principality, the hereditary possession of counts of 
Holland, of dukes of Gueldres and of a number of 
other such dignitaries. By might or by fraud, by 
purchase or by intermarriage, all these titles and 
possessions had come at last to be united in one 
person, wdio was also the duke of Burgundy, a 
vast province now a part of France. This duke 
of Burgundy married a daughter of Ferdinand 
and Isabella, the king and queen of Spain. They 
had a son called Charles, who became the heir to 
the Spanish throne through his mother, and the 
heir to Burgundy and all the JSTetherland prov- 
inces through his father. When Charles grew to 
man’s estate, he became king of Spain, duke of 
Burgundy and hereditary possessor of all those 
Lowland counties and duchies now constituting 
the kingdoms of Holland and Belgium. This 
Charles Y. of Spain rose to even greater heights 


26 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


of glory; he was elected emperor of Germany. 
Whether tired of all these distinctions and the 
care of these vast and varied possessions, or for 
some other reason, in the year 1555, Charles laid 
aside his powers as emperor and as king. Spain 
and the Netherlands, by natural descent, passed into 
the hands of his son, Philip, commonly known as 
Philip II., king of Spain. 

Meantime, during the reign of the emperor 
Charles V., a change had come over the face of 
the religious world. The doctrines of the Refor- 
mation had begun to be preached by Martin Luther 
in Germany, Ulrich Zwinglius in Switzerland and 
John Calvin in France. These doctrines, which 
denounced the errors and superstitions of the 
Roman Catholic Church, and the vices and crimes 
of its priests and rulers, spread like wildfire among 
the people. They penetrated the Netherlands and 
gained many adherents. Charles could not do as 
he wished with Luther and his followers in Ger- 
many, but in the Netherlands he thought he was 
absolute master; and he caused those who favored 
the doctrines of Luther to be imprisoned, fined, 
tortured, killed. From the year 1521, when he 
began the terrible work, till 1555, when he abdi- 
cated his throne, thousands of innocent persons 
were beheaded, strangled, buried alive or burned at 
the stake. He solemnly bequeathed this horrible 
butchery to his son Philip as a duty which he 


A FEW EXPLANATIONS. 


27 


owed to God and the Church of Christ; which, of 
course, in their view, was the Roman Catholic 
Church. He had left the work to no unwilling 
hands : Philip was even more bigoted and zealous 
than his father. He declared that he would rather 
die a thousand deaths than reign over heretics. He 
deliberately and formally condemned to death the 
entire people of the Low Countries whether Catho- 
lics or Protestants, because he considered the whole 
country infected with the heresy. 

It so happened, however, that these Netherland- 
er had been a liberty-loving race for centuries, and 
by means of their great wealth, accumulated through 
their numerous industries, their skillful arts and 
their immense commerce, they had wrested im- 
portant privileges and liberties from their sovereign 
lords. These arbitrary persecutions and executions 
for mere differences in religious belief clashed di- 
rectly with these privileges. Charles and Philip 
introduced and maintained the “ Inquisition.” This 
was an institution called into existence especially to 
cope with the offence of heresy, as any dissent from 
the teachings of Rome was called. Its officers could 
arrest any one on the merest suspicion or the slightest 
accusation; then the “ inquisitors” proper, or judges, 
could condemn to any punishment they pleased (and 
that of torture and the most painful executions were 
the ones they almost invariably selected) without any 
of the ordinary forms and proceedings of courts of 


28 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


justice and in the face of the plainest laws of the 
land. 

It was just this overriding of the laws and privi- 
leges of these free countries that roused the whole 
nation, nobles and people, Protestants and Roman 
Catholics, alike, against their sovereign. The leader 
of this political opposition was William, prince of 
Orange. He sought to guide matters cautiously 
but firmly, and avoided as long as it was possible an 
open breach and an appeal to arms. But the king’s 
obstinate despotism and blind bigotry drove the 
patriots to extremities. Philip had long since left 
the country himself to establish his court in Spain. 
First he had committed the government of the 
Netherlands into the hands of his sister, Marga- 
ret, duchess of Parma. When he saw the opposition 
against him growing more desperate instead of being 
crushed by his oppressive measures, he sent (in 
1567), as governor-general over these provinces, 
the duke of Alva — a famous general of a cruel and 
ferocious nature — at the head of eleven thousand 
picked Spanish and Italian troops. This was the 
signal for open revolt. The prince of Orange fled 
the country and raised an army in Germany, with 
which he invaded the provinces at various points, 
gaining some successes over the Spaniards; but in 
the end he was compelled to abandon the enterprise 
without any real advantages. Alva went to work at 
a fearful rate, taxing the people to their last dollar, 


A FEW EXPLANATIONS. 


29 


confiscating the lands and goods of the rich, and 
beheading, drowning, burning and hanging heretics 
and others. He was governor for six years, and at 
the end of that time he boasted that he had caused 
eighteen thousand six hundred victims to be exe- 
cuted. 

Such a monster of wickedness made the people 
of Holland all the more determined in their resist- 
ance to tyranny. At first they were cowed into pas- 
sive endurance of their wrongs, and hence the ill- 
success that attended the efforts of their would- 
be liberator, the patriotic prince of Orange. But 
one bold deed — as is often the case in such circum- 
stances — turned the scales and roused the nation to 
renewed struggles for their freedom. Great num- 
bers of those who had been driven from their 
homes had taken refuge from persecution upon 
the sea, and had organized themselves into a sort 
of impromptu navv, which was half patriotic and 
half piratical. This navy made a descent upon 
the coast of Holland at the mouth of the river 
Maas (or Meuse), and captured, and successfully 
held for the prince, the city of Briel. This au- 
spicious event occurred on April 1, 1572. 

The example of Briel was contagious. Garrisons 
of the Spaniards had been placed within almost 
every city of Holland ; these garrisons were now 
driven out by the people of these cities. City after 
city declared for the prince of Orange and cast off 


30 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


the yoke of Spain, till but a very few were left in 
the hands of the oppressors. 

The duke of Alva was at first stupefied with 
astonishment, but he soon came to his senses. He 
sent his son, Don Frederick de Toledo, with an im- 
mense army, to force the revolted cities back into 
allegiance to Philip, and to punish them for their 
rebellion. 

The province of Gueldres, or Gelderland, was 
first invaded by the Spaniards. The city of Zut- 
phen was taken by surprise, and by command of 
the duke not a man was left alive in it. Then the 
army turned toward the west and passed through 
the province of Utrecht on its way to Amsterdam, 
which still held for Spain. The little city of 
Naarden, on the shore of the Zuyder Zee, lay in its 
course. Imagining that but a small division of the 
Spanish army was passing, Naarden bade defiance to 
the demand for surrender. No sooner, however, was 
it known that Don Frederick himself and his whole 
force were before its walls, than it changed its mind 
and quickly admitted the enemy. That slight mis- 
take was thought deserving of a most inhuman 
punishment. The people were directed to assemble 
in the cathedral ; there they were massacred in cold 
blood and the church was set on fire, so that scarce 
forty of the entire population escaped to tell the 
awful fate of their fellow-burghers. 

Leaving the town to smoulder beneath its ruins, 


A FEW EXPLANATIONS. 


31 


the Spaniards hurried on to Amsterdam, a con- 
venient base of operations for reducing both North 
and South Holland, as it lay between them. Don 
Frederick determined first of all to take Haarlem, 
lying directly west of Amsterdam, as by this stroke 
the two provinces would be completely severed. It 
was thought that Haarlem, intimidated by the fate 
of Naarden, would at once surrender, especially as 
its defences were looked upon as the weakest in the 
country. The Spanish governor and his son were 
much mistaken. For seven months their great 
army was kept at bay by the Hollanders. Two or 
three skillfully-planned assaults, conducted by ex- 
perienced generals with the best troops of Europe, 
after the most destructive cannonading, were re- 
pulsed by the besieged with ruinous loss. Sortie 
after sortie was successfully made by the patriots, 
and much injury inflicted upon the Spaniards. A 
corps of three hundred armed and disciplined 
women, under the leadership of the Lady Kenan 
Hasselaar, boldly issued from the walls with these 
sorties and did effective service. It was nothing 
but famine that in the end reduced the city. Don 
Frederick had promised safety to life and property, 
but these promises were made only to be broken, 
and after the surrender twenty-three hundred per- 
sons were executed. 

Hardly had Haarlem fallen when the Spanish 
general began to make preparations to push north- 


32 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


ward. The city of Alkmaar was the object of his 
march, and to render it assistance Walter’s uncle, 
Captain Ruikhaver, and other officers and their 
commands in the North of Holland, were directed 
by the prince to add themselves to its scanty garri- 
son. We may anticipate here and say that Alk- 
maar was not taken, but that the Spaniards were 
forced to abandon it on the 8th of October of this 
same year, 1573, after a siege of seven weeks. 

We have now shown the youthful inquirer how 
it happened that the Spaniards had come with an 
army into Holland and what had taken place in 
the immediate vicinity of Waiter’s home. Haar- 
lem’s siege, although it ended so fatally for the 
city, nevertheless, on account of the unheard-of 
bravery of its defence, has made the city famous 
in history. 

Before we go on with our story, however, we 
must speak of one other thing which made Haar- 
lem renowned. 

During those sad and cruel times, when tiie 
adherents of the Reformation fell by thousands 
every year, it may well be supposed that they 
were not accommodated with comfortable churches 
in which to preach the gospel. Their doctrines 
were disseminated with great caution and circum- 
spection, and principally by means of books and 
pamphlets. As some one has said, “it snowed” 
printed matter of this kind. But in the year 


A FEW EXPLANATIONS. 


33 


1566 there sprang into sudden activity a move- 
ment which may have been on foot before, but 
certainly not on such a gigantic scale. This was 
“ field-preaching.” Preachers of the Reformed 
doctrines would gather hearers by thousands (in 
some cases as many as twenty-five thousand) in 
the open fields, and there preach to them for 
hours together. To prevent molestation on the 
part of the authorities, these multitudes would go 
armed to the place of meeting. 

On the 21st of July, 1566, such a meeting was 
appointed to take place at Overveen, a village in 
the neighborhood of Haarlem. The man who 
was to preach there was a converted monk, Peter 
Gabriel by name. The day before, constant streams 
of people had come to Haarlem from a distance to 
spend the night. In the morning the magistrates 
closed the gates in order to detain these multitudes, 
and thus to prevent the gathering. But it was in 
vain. Hundreds climbed over the walls and swam 
the moat; hundreds slipped out of the gates at every 
opportunity; others manifested such indignation 
that it was thought expedient to open the gates. 

The crowds flocked about the preacher to the 
number of five thousand. A natural amphitheatre 
was formed by the gentle slopes of the surrounding 
sandhills, and two long spears stuck into the sand, 
with one tied to the other in a horizontal position, 
made a rude support for the speaker. He chose as 
3 


34 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


his text Eph. ii. 8-10, beginning, “For by grace 
are ye saved, through faith,” and for four hours in 
the hot July sun the preacher held these multitudes 
spellbound. Before dismissing the assembly it was 
announced that on the following morning, Monday, 
the 22d of July, a similar service would be held at 
the same place. Then Gabriel with three of his 
friends mounted a wagon and sped northward to 
Alkmaar, near which he was to preach on the 
morrow. 

Down from Alkmaar, to fill the appointment at 
Overveen of which we have just heard, came a 
preacher whom we shall hear mentioned in the 
course of our story. This was John Arentsoon. 
He was a man mighty in the Scriptures, but with- 
out education, being a simple basketmaker by 
trade. Joined to these fearless and eloquent preach- 
ers were men of lesser note, but of great power, nev- 
ertheless, among whom was Walter’s father. As 
he journeyed from place to place, Walter was 
necessarily separated from his father, and for the 
present was staying with his grandfather in their 
rural home. 


CHAPTER III. 


A DESOLATED HOME. 

A FTER the termination of the conflict between 
the hunter and the Fox of Noortdorp, narrated 
in our first chapter, the lad’s eyes followed the two 
men for a few moments, and then he turned and 
proceeded with rapid steps toward his home. On 
the way he thought upon all that had happened to 
him this morning, and, suddenly recalling Uncle 
Ruik haver’s note, he began to feel very anxious. 
He ran as fast as his feet would allow him, and 
about fifteen minutes later he saw from afar his 
grandfather’s lowly but pleasant dwelling. 

The nearer he came to the house, the more he 
became convinced that something extraordinary 
must have occurred there. He was surprised not 
to find Aggie, the servant-maid, on the road. 
Whenever anything had taken him from home, 
he was always accustomed to see her come out 
to meet him on his return. But not this time: 
all was still. He did not hear even the notes of 
the finches and redbreasts which had built their 
nests near the house. Everywhere he observed 

35 


36 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


the marks of horseshoes in the sand, so that he 
feared that his grandfather had received a dis- 
agreeable visit. Afraid that perhaps some un- 
known danger threatened him also, he left the 
sandy road, made his way through the under- 
brush at his left, and concealed himself amid the 
low shrubbery that surrounded the house. 

Scarcely had he reached this place of safety when 
the sound of moaning struck his ear ; he listened 
intently, and he plainly heard his name. He pushed 
slowly through the underbrush, and pretty soon he 
perceived at a little distance from him the figure of 
a woman, whom he instantly recognized as Aggie. 
The poor girl was leaning against the trunk of a 
young oak tree, and on seeing the grandson of 
her master she stretched out her left hand toward 
him, while with the right she supported her bleed- 
ing head. 

“ Aggie, Aggie ! What ails you ! What has 
happened to you ?” broke forth the terrified boy. 

But Aggie had scarcely any power to speak. 
She took him by the arm, and, drawing him to 
her, with difficulty she whispered in broken words, 

“Walter — dear Walter — flee! The Spaniards — 
have been — here.” 

“And where is grandfather, then?” with deep 
emotion asked the lad whom we heard addressed 
as Walter. 

“ I don't know. I only saw — how these hang- 


A DESOLATED HOME . 37 

men — bound — my poor — old master — between two 
horses — and dragged him — along.” 

The boy uttered a cry of consternation. He 
clasped his hands with loud expressions of sorrow, 
crying, 

“ Oh, why was I not here? Had I been here, it 
would not have happened. I would have defended 
myself with my dagger until not a Spaniard had 
remained.” 

“Thank God — that you — were not here,” said 
Aggie, in great feebleness. “ What could — you 
have — done against — so many armed — men?” 

“And what have they done to you ?” asked Wal- 
ter, anxiously looking at her wounds and with his 
handkerchief wiping the blood that streamed down 
her cheek. “ Poor Aggie ! what have they done to 
you ?” 

It was, however, with great difficulty that Aggie 
could utter any intelligible words. All that Wal- 
ter learned amounted to the following : His grand- 
father and Aggie had waited a long while with 
dinner, but at length Aggie had placed the victuals 
on the table, and was just engaged in dishing them 
out, when of a sudden they heard loud cries and a 
confused noise outside the house. Grandfather 
scarcely had time to close the Bible, wherein he 
had been reading a few moments, when the door 
was violently thrown open and some Spanish sol- 
diers entered the dwelling with the cry, 


38 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“ Where is the Dutch heretic?” 

It was not necessary to search long. Walter’s 
grandfather, who was lame, remained quietly sit- 
ting. He held his thin hands upon the Bible, as 
if he would still defend God’s word. The aged 
man was ruthlessly torn from his chair. Two 
priests who during Don Frederick’s stay rat the 
castle at Cleef accompanied the Spanish commander 
snatched the Bible from the table and with the rage 
of wild beasts tore it to pieces and trampled the 
leaves under foot. Aggie came to the aid of the 
old man, but one of the soldiers gave her so vio- 
lent a blow on the head with his halberd that 
she staggered back and fell down. Others struck 
her with their pikes, so that she was left insensible. 
When she regained consciousness, she saw how they 
led the aged man away. With hands bound they 
made him walk between two horses, while the foot- 
soldiers struck him in the back with the butt-ends 
of their muskets when he almost sank down. More 
than this Aggie had not seen ; the last words, how- 
ever, that she had heard told that her master was 
to be led to Haarlem, there on the scaffold to die the 
martyr’s death of a Protestant. Fearing that the 
soldiers might ere long return, Aggie had crept 
away from the house; for the villains had wounded 
her so badly that she could no longer stand up. She 
had fortunately reached the wood, and far away from 
all human help she patiently awaited her death. 


A DESOLATED HOME. 


39 


Walter had listened to all this with the most 
painful concern. The big tears rolled down his 
cheeks, and he regretted that he was still so young 
and had not sufficient strength to carry her to the 
nearest dwelling. But, alas! no house was to be 
found within two miles. Most of the people had 
left the neighborhood at the approach of the 
Spaniards, and the few who remained he could not 
trust; for many of them were in league with the 
enemy. Where, then, must he look for help ? If 
he had only a little water ! for Aggie was suffering 
from a burning thirst. But where should he look 
for water? There was but one place where it 
could be found — in the forsaken dwelling. He 
told Aggie he would try and enter the house. 

Aggie had no strength to offer any objections; 
accordingly, Walter left her, in the hope of soon 
being able to return with some refreshment. He 
crept on his hands and feet through the underbrush, 
and soon he came to an opening in the wood which 
made a separation between himself and the dwell- 
ing. From here he could observe the house. The 
door stood wide open, and he could easily see how 
the Spaniards had conducted themselves. The door- 
posts were cut to pieces with axes ; not a window 
had been spared ; wanton hands had even cut down 
the flowers which Aggie had so carefully nurtured. 
But Walter could hear no sound ; all nature was so 
quiet that it seemed as if the birds of heaven them- 


40 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


selves mourned over the injury done to the people 
of God. 

Walter now crept cautiously on, and, venturing 
at last, he sprang with one bound from the last shrub 
to the house. He entered the room. What de- 
struction ! Everything was broken to pieces and 
plundered; everything of value and all clothing 
had been taken away. He plainly saw the prepa- 
rations for the meal, and, though he felt very hun- 
gry, he could not take any of the tempting morsels, 
trodden as they were in the sand and dirt. Fortu- 
nately, he found a large piece of bread, and after 
taking a deep bite into it he put the remainder in 
his pocket, well aware that this might be of service 
afterward. Walter also observed with indignation 
how his grandfather’s Bible had been torn to pieces 
and the leaves scattered over the floor. This sight 
moved him deeply, and he could not bear to let the 
leaves lie around in that way. Hastily gathering 
all he could lay hands on, he rolled them together 
and hid them in his jacket. Next he went through 
another door, leading into the garden, where the 
well was. His quick eye had already found a 
pitcher, and after a little effort he succeeded in 
drawing up the chain and filling it. He eagerly 
took one or two draughts, and was on the point of 
returning to Aggie, pitcher in hand, when, to his 
terror, he heard distant voices. His curiosity did 
not permit him to take flight at once. Climbing 


A DESOLATED HOME. 


41 


upon the edge of the well and holding fast to the 
iron arch, he could see a number of soldiers 
approaching from the direction of Beverwyk, their 
helmets and cuirasses flashing in the afternoon sun. 
He concluded that this was no longer a safe place, 
and sprang down from the edge of the well ; and, 
holding the pitcher in his hand, he ran into the 
wood with the swiftness of the hunted deer. He 
found Aggie again with but little difficulty, but, 
alas ! in what a condition ! Her respiration was 
extremely difficult ; she gasped for breath and could 
no longer press the hand which Walter held in his. 
He placed the pitcher to her lips, but it was of no 
use. All-powerless, the poor girl sank down, and, 
fixing her feeble eyes upon Walter, she said with 
the greatest effort, 

“ I die ! God have mercy upon my poor soul — 
for Jesus’ sake. Tell my sister — you know her — 
tell her that I die — a true Chris — ” Her voice 
failed her. A few moments later, and she was no 
more. 

There stood poor Walter with the pitcher in one 
hand and the fingers of the dying woman in the 
other. But when he saw the pale hue of death 
spreading over the once-blooming features of the 
faithful Aggie, he could no longer restrain himself, 
but wept as though his heart would break. He 
could not, however, leave the body in this place, for 
the underbrush was here pretty well open. Afraid 


42 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


that the Spaniards would soon find the corpse, he 
dragged it as well as he could to the thickest part 
of the wood ; and scarcely had he done this when 
he heard the voices of the approaching soldiers. 
Plainly he heard said in good Dutch, 

“ We must thoroughly examine the house and its 
surroundings, for no doubt the heretic’s grandson is 
hiding here.” 

“ Yes, yes !” said another voice, which filled him 
with still greater terror, for he recognized it dis- 
tinctly as the voice of the Noortdorp Fox — “yes, 
yes ! He must be here, for less than two hours ago 
I left him within two miles of this place.” 

“ We will search for him, for does not his grand- 
father expect him?” said the first voice again, with 
a coarse laugh in which others joined. 

“ It would really be a pity if he escaped,” added 
the second voice, at which an icy feeling crept 
around Walter’s heart, “for the boy would surely 
give us a brighter bonfire than the lean ribs of the 
old heretic alone.” 

“Come on!” said a commanding voice; “no loi- 
tering here. — You, Fox, stay by the house with 
these three musketeers, and I will go with my other 
men into the woods.” 

Walter heard no more, but this was enough to 
make him anxious to preserve his life. With the 
agility of a cat he clambered up the thickest oak tree 
which he found in the vicinity, and concealed him- 


A DESOLATED HOME. 


43 


self in the densest foliage of the heavy limbs. 
This had taken a great deal of effort, for he could 
not reach around the tree ; but he had been fortu- 
nate enough to find here a knot and there a broken 
branch, which had aided his ascent. But not alone 
had these supported him. Walter saw beyond the 
thick foliage the blue heavens, and, knowing that 
there dwells a God above who forsakes not the 
poor orphan, in his name and trusting in his aid 
he had accomplished the difficult ascent. 

There, then, sat the lad, his legs drawn underneath 
him like a tailor’s. In fact, he was so well con- 
cealed here that even the most experienced eye 
could not have discovered him ; and, resting upon 
the fulfillment of Uncle Ruikhaver’s prayer that 
God might be near unto him, he awaited his ene- 
mies with less anxiety. And yet it was fortunate 
for Walter that the Spaniards did not come here, 
for the soldiers would undoubtedly have perceived 
his footprints in the sand, and also the direction in 
which he had dragged Aggie’s body. Yes, the 
Lord was near unto him, and suffered not that he 
should at this time fall into the power of his ene- 
mies. Walter heard, indeed, the voices of the mus- 
keteers calling to one another in the wood — heard, 
indeed, many a wicked word mingled with curses in 
the Spanish language ; but here he sat in safety, as 
the squirrel in its nest. Fortunate, too, was it for 
him that the sun began slowly to descend toward 


44 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


the horizon; so that the soldiers, grown tired of 
their fruitless search, concluded at last to go back. 
He heard them murmur and curse in the distance, 
and the Noortdorp Fox especially expressed his 
vexation that the heretic boy had not been found. 
The villain ! he had already forgotten that Walter 
had been the very one who saved his life. But 
what do the ungodly know of gratitude? 

Although Walter could plainly hear that the sol- 
diers had departed, and that even the Noortdorp Fox 
had left the house, he did not venture to come down 
from his hiding-place. He now let his feet hang 
down and placed himself more comfortably upon 
the broad limb. He meant to wait till night, and 
then, under cover of darkness, to seek refuge among 
the sandhills. Meanwhile, he examined his pockets, 
and after he had refreshed himself with a piece of 
bread which he had found in grandfather’s house 
he took out the leaves of the torn Bible, which he 
had rolled up and put in his pocket. The first leaf 
which he took in hand contained a portion of the 
tenth chapter of Matthew. He turned it as much 
as possible toward the light, and there in his soli- 
tude, alone with his God, the persecuted boy read 
these words: “And ye shall be hated of all men 
for my name’s sake ; but he that endureth to the 
end shall be saved.” And a little farther on : “And 
fear not them which kill the body and are not able 
to kill the soul ; but rather fear Him which is able 


A DESOLATED HOME. 


45 


to destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not 
two sparrows sold for a farthing ? and one of them 
shall not fall on the ground without your Father. 
But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. 
Fear ye not, therefore, ye are of more value than 
many sparrows.” 

The tears came into Walter’s eyes as he read these 
words. How exactly and strikingly did they fit 
his case ! They seemed to have been written ex- 
pressly for him. 

“ Yes,” he exclaimed, “ it is true: the Lord was 
nigh unto me; and he shall also be nigh unto me 
henceforth, therefore need I fear nothing. — I thank 
thee, O faithful God, that thou hast thus far pre- 
served me. Be yet further my guide, and grant 
that I may not deny thee, Lord Jesus, but may en- 
dure unto the end.” 

Meanwhile, it had grown dark all about him. 
He rolled the papers together again, and determined 
to place his trust in God and to leave these parts 
as soon as possible. 


CHAPTER IV. 


A NIGHT-SCENE. 



ALTER climbed down the tree more quickly 


than he had gone up. His hands were a 
little bruised, so that the blood stood under the 
nails, but no other harm had come to him. His 
broad-brimmed felt hat was altogether out of 
shape, and the white cuffs of his wide-sleeved 
jacket had taken all the colors of the oak tree. 
It was, however, much darker below than it was 
up in the tree; so that he had need of being care- 
ful, as he went, lest he should run against the trees. 
Not to lose his way, he stood with his back against 
the oak tree, deliberating which direction he must 
take to get as soon as possible out of the woods. 
He dared not venture to go near the house, and, 
however much he suffered from thirst, he could 
not get himself to approach the place where Aggie’s 
mangled corpse lav hid beneath the underbrush; and 
yet he would have gladly looked upon her once 
more. He resolved to keep going always straight 
ahead, but in a direction as much as possible toward 


46 


A NIGHT-SCENE. 


47 


the left from where he started, expecting that in this 
way he would at length succeed in reaching the sand- 
hills. Now feeling his way, now stumbling, now 
falling, he at last reached the edge of the woods, 
and, aided by the light of the moon, he soon found 
the sandy road, running obliquely through the 
underbrush, which led by many footpaths into 
the sandhills. He ran on without looking around. 
Acquainted with the location of the sandhills, or 
dunes, and well accustomed to such clamberings, 
he sprang down one hill and up another, and did 
not rest till he came to a hollow which lay between 
two high hills. 

He resolved to stay here for the present, and, 
leaning comfortably against the steep sand-slope, 
he thought of means to spend the night here. Of 
sleep he could not think for a while yet, for the 
scenes which he had witnessed during the day 
rose so vividly before his mind that every moment 
he imagined he saw the face of the NQortdorp 
Fox ; or when he took pains to banish that traitor 
from his sight, then he heard the cries and impre- 
cations of the Spanish musketeers. Then, again, 
he thought of his dear grandfather, who had been 
so wickedly abused and dragged along by the sol- 
diers. This reflection was so distressing to him 
that he began to cry and sob like a child that 
had lost its dearest treasure. Gradually, however, 
he controlled himself; for the hope that there 


48 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


might still be escape for his grandfather gave 
him encouragement to think of himself. 

Safely situated as he was here, still he could not 
say that it was as agreeable as he might wish. The 
cold night-air, freshened by the cool seabreeze, pen- 
etrated his clothes and made a chill pass through 
his limbs; so that he wished he could get under 
cover somewhere, were it no better a shelter than a 
barn. But where should he find such? He knew, 
indeed, that he was among the sandhills, but, so far 
as he could see or recollect, there was not a single 
dwelling or sheepfold hereabouts where he could 
spend the night. Nevertheless, he wished to make 
certain ; and so he climbed the steepest hill and 
directed his eyes right and left. Far away rolled 
the German Ocean, and he could distinctly hear 
the beating of the waves upon the beach, but no- 
where did he see anything that looked like a 
human dwelling. He was on the point of descend- 
ing the hill, to spend the night as best he could in 
some nook in the sand, when he perceived the 
flickering of a flame not far distant from him. 
At first he thought he had not seen aright and 
that this light was perhaps nothing more than 
what is called “ heat-lightning, ” but he soon con- 
vinced himself that it was more than this. A bright 
flame sprang up, and from the red glow which from 
time to time it cast around he understood that in 
order to feed it a handful of dry sand-plants was 


A NIGHT-SCENE. 


49 


now and then cast into it. What should Walter 
do? To remain where he was he wished not, and 
to go to the place where the fire was he dared not ; 
for how could he know whether they were friends 
or enemies ? Nevertheless, he must come to some 
conclusion; so, although halting between hope and 
fear, he ventured to go slowly forward. 

When he had reached the foot of the high dune, 
he saw nothing more of the flame ; but, having as- 
cended the hill which rose in front of him, he found 
himself much nearer the fire he had lately discov- 
ered. Creeping onward with the utmost caution, he 
little by little neared the place, and at length reached 
a sandhill which, covered with low bushes, offered 
him a safe hiding-place from which he could observe 
everything that took place. Fortunately, the wind 
blew so that almost every word reached his ear. 
Walter lay down at full length upon the ground 
and crept beneath the low underbrush, and in this 
way saw and heard all. 

In a sand-hollow between some hills overgrown 
with young trees there sat — or, rather, reclined — 
two soldiers whom Walter soon recognized as Span- 
iards. A third stood close by the fire, over-against 
a woman who seemed to be a prisoner, for her 
hands and feet were bound. Who that man was 
Walter could not at first perceive, for his face was 
turned away from him. It seemed that the captive 
was bitterly weeping, and her sobs could be heard 
4 


50 


WALTER HARMSEK 


as far as Walter’s hiding-place. The soldiers were 
sound asleep, but the man who stood in front of the 
fire with his back to Walter was continually talking 
to the woman — as it seemed, with little consolation 
for her. Now and then the sound of the words also 
reached Walter, but whether the man did not wish 
to disturb the sleepers, or whether there were some 
other reason for it, he spoke so low that Walter 
could not make out what he said. This was not 
at all to his liking, for Walter possessed a large 
measure of inquisitiveness ; for which he could not 
be very greatly blamed in the circumstances, since 
all that had happened during the day might well 
induce him to be on the alert. 

Meantime, the man. who still continued to talk to 
the prisoner, seemed to be growing angry at her 
weeping, for his voice became louder, and now 
and then Walter heard that he threatened to kill 
her. But she could not control herself, and the 
wind carried her sobs unceasingly to Walter’s ear. 
The man became so incensed at this that he seized 
the captive by the arm and dragged her to the 
sandhill where Walter lay concealed. 

Now the boy seemed to recognize the man : it 
was the same Noortdorp Fox who had that even- 
ing, in company with the Spanish musketeers, 
searched and kept watch at grandfather’s house. 
He was filled with terror as he thought of the 
danger of being so near the dreaded man, and he 


A NIGHT-SCENE . 


51 


regretted too late the inquisitiveness which had 
brought him here. 

“ There !” said the Fox ; “ lie there. Then you 
will not disturb us any longer with your noise. 
Why don’t you get asleep ? Isn’t it the last night 
you will spend among the sandhills ?” he asked, 
mockingly ; “ for to-morrow I’ll speak a good word 
for you and have you promoted on the great mar- 
ket-place at Haarlem — w r ith a piece of rope round 
your neck,” he added, in a low tone. 

“ The villain!” muttered Walter, inwardly, draw- 
ing forth his dagger. “ Oh, were it in my power, I 
would — ” 

The woman, however, continued weeping, and 
distinctly Walter heard her say, 

“ What have I done to you, that you should 
have dragged me from my peaceful dwelling, while 
my brother Geert — ” 

“ Be still !” roared the Fox ; “ do not speak that 
detested name in my hearing, for I have made a 
vow to St. Nicodemus that I will deliver up the 
whole family of that rebel to our Church.” 

“ But what has my brother done to you ?” asked 
the woman. 

“ ‘ Done ’ ! ” replied the Fox, and his face assumed 
a most malignant expression. “ What has he done 
to me? He treated me as though I were a wild 
beast, and without timely help I would probably 
have sunk down by the way.” 


52 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“ My brother told me that he had you in his 
power and at first wanted to shoot you, but that 
at the request of young Walter Harmsen he let 
you go unhurt.” 

“ He lied, the heretic ! My arms are still swollen, 
so tightly did he bind them. And, as to that young 
Walter Harmsen, whose grandfather I expect will 
be made a head shorter, I’ll give him his share 
sooner or later ; for he is a nephew of that detested 
Ruikhaver, who once let me be beaten black and 
blue by his soldiers. So it must go with all rebels 
and such as do not go back into the bosom of the 
holy mother-Church.” 

Walter felt anything but comfortable when he 
heard this; and when he learned how sad a fate 
awaited his dear grandfather, he was forced to put 
his hand upon his mouth to prevent himself from 
crying out aloud. 

“ But why not let me go ?” cried the woman. 
u I never did you any harm. Who will now take 
care of my two little babes ? My brother has gone 
to Enkhuizen, and my husband — ” 

“ Well, and your husband?” asked the Fox, 
while he laughed wickedly. 

But the woman gave no answer. 

“ Then I will tell you,” angrily rejoined the Fox : 
“ your husband, who formerly attended early mass 
every morning at Bever wyk, has been seduced to 
other sentiments by the heretic father of Walter 


A NIGHT-SCENE. 


53 


Harmsen, and wanders now all over the country 
and incites the farmers against our lawful count, 
the king of Spain. But we’ll get hold of him 
yet.” 

The thought of her brave husband, who had 
followed the Lord’s call, gave the poor woman 
courage, and, in spite of the distressful condition 
wherein she was, she said to the Fox, 

“ I thank my God, who had compassion upon 
my husband and myself and opened our eyes to 
Rome’s — ” 

“ Ha !” cried the Fox, furiously ; and, running 
upon her, he seized her by the shoulders and threw 
her backward, so that she fell with her head against 
the branches of the undergrowth. 

The woman uttered no complaint; on the con- 
trary, the more the villain tormented her, the more 
she found that God is mighty in weakness. 

11 Think you that I fear your fury ?” said the 
woman, with a calm voice, raising herself a little 
upon her elbows. “ No ; God knows I do not. 
Sooner or later he will surely requite you for all 
your wicked deeds. You have now torn me away 
from my children, but the time will come that you 
must render an account for this.” 

At this moment Walter observed that one of the 
soldiers moved ; the boy, however, kept quiet and 
waited patiently, praying the Lord that help might 
speedily come. 


54 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


The Fox, who did not seem to have been in the 
least moved by the words of the prisoner, would 
still give her to understand that he had heard her. 
He therefore bent over her, and, taking her by the 
arm, said, 

“ I will break your spirit. Don’t I know where 
your children are? Men call me i the Fox/ but 
you surely know that a fox has his tricks. Well, 
then, I’ll tell you one of his tricks. Pretty soon I 
will leave you to the care of these soldiers, and then 
I will go to your house.” 

“ You’ll do no harm to my little children ?” cried 
the poor woman. 

“Not at all!” continued the Fox, with a hypo- 
critical laugh ; “ but, as I am afraid that it will be 
rather cold for them, I will provide them with a 
good fire.” 

The woman sighed. 

The Fox, too greatly occupied with the object 
of his vengeance, did not observe what took place 
behind him, and therefore did not see that one of 
the soldiers raised his head and seemed to listen to 
the conversation between these two. 

The woman with difficulty lifted herself into a sit- 
ting posture ; and when she had succeeded in this, 
she said in a tone of voice trembling with emotion, 

“ I am in the hands of the Lord, and my chil- 
dren have their angels who will watch over them.” 

“Well, we’ll soon see in whose hands you are; 


A NIGHT-SCENE. 


55 


and, as to your children, they won’t be likely to tell 
you how warm a time they had of it.” 

Then first the woman comprehended what the 
villain meant, and, uttering a cry, she screamed in 
despair : 

“ You will not burn my children?” 

“Oh no; I will only just provide the house 
where they are with a good fire.” 

“ And then ?” asked the woman, her bosom heav- 
ing with anxiety. 

“Well,” answered the Fox, “that fire will burn 
right lustily.” 

“ And my children ?” 

“ Aren’t they asleep ?” 

“ But there is no one who can protect them.” 

“Where are those angels, then?” asked the Fox, 
mockingly. 

The woman’s head sank on her bosom. 

Meanwhile, the Fox went over to the now-extin- 
guished fire,, near which the two soldiers lay on the 
ground. With the greatest carefulness he listened 
to their breathing; and when he had convinced 
himself that they were both asleep, he went back 
to the woman, sat himself down by her side, and, 
touching her with his elbow, he said, 

“ Do you remember how, on a certain evening 
when you were home alone, about four years ago, 
and on the day after St. John’s, some one knocked at 
the window-shutter, requesting to be let in ?” 


56 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


The woman nodded assent. 

“ Do you know what that man came for ? But 
you will have forgotten that. I will tell you : That 
man had accidentally shot a dog which was the best 
hunting-dog of the hunter of Rooswyck, your 
father. Your father,” continued the tormentor, 
without noticing how the woman shuddered, “ made 
this known to the lady of the castle.” 

“ And — ?” asked the woman, anxiously awaiting 
the conclusion. 

“ The lady ordered the miscreant to be punished.” 

“ Did this take place ?” 

“ Fortunately not, but without the hunter’s help. 
But he who had dared by accident to kill the dog 
escaped the danger with the intention of at some 
time taking revenge upon the taleteller. A fort- 
night afterward your father fell dead in front of 
his house.” 

“ Yes ; a murderer had shot him in the back.” 

“ Exactly ; but that murderer has pot yet come 
to the end of his vengeance, for the taleteller had a 
son who succeeded him and a daughter who could 
not love the murderer. Now do you know the man 
who knocked at the shutter on a certain evening? 
Look me well in the face,” continued the savage, 
seizing the woman by the hair. “Do you know 
me yet?” 

The woman screamed. The villain did not 
observe that the soldier had come nearer. 


A NIGHT-SCENE. 


57 


“ And now,” he continued, “ you know why I 
shall deliver you up to the clergy, and why this 
very night your children — ” 

The last word he could not utter, for the cry 
which escaped from the breast of the prisoner was 
so fearful that Walter shuddered. 

The rage of the inhuman villain grew more and 
more violent, and now, turning into frenzy, he 
stood up, caught her by the hair, threw her with 
the most horrible imprecations to the ground, when 
he was suddenly seized and thrown backward. 
Quickly he rose to his feet, to see who had dared 
to touch him, when, to his terror, he saw the mus- 
keteer standing before him, who called out to him 
in broken Dutch, which betrayed the German, 

“ Stay there, villain, or I shoot you down! A 
German soldier shall never suffer a coward to insult 
a defenceless woman, although he is in the service 
of the duke of Alva.” 

The Fox seized his firearm, which stood near, and 
would certainly have committed a new murder had 
not the German thrown himself upon the villain 
under the cry of — 

“ Ho, comrade ! Come to the rescue !” 

The other soldier lay plunged in so deep a sleep 
that he perceived nothing of what took place. The 
two men fell upon each other, and a violent strug- 
gle occurred. The German soldier was, however, no 
match for the Noortdorp Fox, and after a while the 


58 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


latter even succeeded in getting the soldier under him, 
and, drawing forth a broad knife, w T as about to de- 
spatch him, when the other soldier, having waked 
up and perceiving the danger just in time, threw 
himself upon the villain and pulled him back. In 
a moment he was bound and helpless. 

“ What shall we do with the rascal ?” asked the 
first soldier who had come to the woman’s rescue. 

“ Let us drag him to the sea and drown him in it 
like a dog,” replied the other; “he deserves nothing 
better.” 

“No, that will take us too long. I know of 
something better. If I am not mistaken, we are 
not far distant from the woods : let us hang the 
villain. What say you to that?” 

“Excellent! For is he not the cause of our 
having to leave our quiet quarters last night to 
take this woman prisoner ? Therefore let him 
hang.” 

The Fox shook with fear. 

“And, as for this woman, we shall leave her 
here till we come back ; it will be daybreak by 
that time, and so we shall have time enough yet 
to bring her to the castle at Cleef. Come on !” 

The two soldiers ordered their prisoner to ad- 
vance, but he did not allow himself to be so easily 
led away. At last they were compelled to tie a 
long cord between his arms, and so they dragged 
him through the sand. 


A NIGHT-SCENE. 


59 


When they had gone some distance, Walter crept 
out of his hiding-place, to the great terror of the 
woman, who naturally feared that a new enemy was 
about to assail her; but when Walter told her who 
he was, she rejoiced greatly and thanked God for 
his mercy. In a moment the cords which bound 
her were cut loose by Walter, and under cover of 
the night they both hastened across the sandhills to 
Wyk-on-the-Sea, in the neighborhood of which 
stood the dwelling of the rescued mother. How 
happy she was when she saw the house ! She spread 
out her arms toward it, for presently she would see 
her children again, who had been exposed to such 
great danger, and who had indeed been surrounded 
by a guard of angels. 

When the joyful mother opened the door in the 
company of Walter, she saw both her darlings sunk, 
arm in arm, into a deep sleep. In the great glad- 
ness of her heart she waked the children and pressed 
them to her heart, praising God for his faithful 
care. However, here she could not remain long, 
for the persecutors who had taken her prisoner would 
certainly find her. But where were they to go? 
These parts had become during the last eight days 
so unsafe by reason of the Spanish soldiery sent out 
by Don Frederick, the Spanish commander, upon 
reconnoitring expeditions, that most dwellings had 
been forsaken. The poor woman knew not whither 
to flee with her little children. Her strength, also, 


60 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


was exhausted, and an overpowering sleep so 
took hold upon her that she could scarcely keep 
her feet. 

Walter, too, was so wearied with his persecutions 
and wanderings that he felt little desire again to 
wander up and down the sandhills. After a few 
moments’ reflection the boy said, 

“ I know what to do : let us put our trust in God. 
I remember very well that when I saw father for 
the last time he told me, ‘ Dear Walter, when man 
knows of no deliverance in his own strength, the 
best help then remains. That best help is God, for 
unto him belong even the issues from death.’ 
Therefore, since we neither may nor can rely upon 
ourselves or upon others, we must commit ourselves 
unto the Lord. I think it best for us that we 
sleep here this night, if it were but for a few 
hours; to-morrow we can see further.” 

“ But the soldiers, then ?” 

“ Oh, if God preserves us, the Spanish soldiers 
can do us no harm even though the king of Spain 
himself come with all his army. Cannot God 
build a wall around about us, so that the enemy 
cannot see us ?” 

“ I am ashamed at my lack of faith,” said the 
woman, drawing Walter toward her and kissing the 
boy on the forehead. “But your example does me 
good ; I feel it. God grant that he may ever fol- 
low you and me with his mercy ! But you must be 


A NIGHT-SCENE. 


61 


hungry,” she continued, looking upon him with 
motherly affection. 

Walter’s face brightened ; and when, a few mo- 
ments later, the woman brought him a good piece 
of bread and ham, he ate as heartily as a boy of his 
age whose stomach had long been craving in vain 
could well be expected to eat. Then she showed 
him where he could comfortably lie down to sleep, 
and, returning to her children, she soon fell asleep 
herself, wearied and exhausted as she was. 

But the poor lad, after all the exertions and anx- 
ieties of the day, was not permitted to enjoy an 
undisturbed night’s rest. Scarcely had he slept an 
hour when he suddenly awoke. It seemed to him 
as if some one had called him several times by 
name. He looked around, but, seeing no one, he 
was on the point of lying down again, when he 
seemed to hear the sound once more. An unac- 
countable dread took hold of him. He could no 
longer endure it in bed, and, supposing that the 
woman, who was in the lower part of the house, 
needed his help, he dressed himself quickly and went 
down stairs as softly as possible. But the mother 
was sleeping quietly between her children ; these, 
therefore, did not want his assistance. Nevertheless, 
he was confident that some one had called him by 
name ; but who ? Could there be some one outside 
waiting for him ? This could not be, for who knew 
that he was in that house? He had little desire 


62 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


to leave the house, and yet there was in him a 
strange feeling of fear and uneasiness that left him 
no rest. Listening to this, he softly withdrew the 
bolts, opened the door, and was soon outside. 

The early-morning red glowed upon the tops of 
the sandhills, but, so far as Walter could see, he 
could not recollect having ever been here before. 
He carefully walked toward a wood which stretched 
itself before him. At the entrance of the wood he 
heard a moaning sound which seemed to come from 
the thickest portion. His heart beat loudly when 
he heard this, and he was on the point of running 
back to the sandhills, but that uneasiness which 
had possessed him during the last hour suffered 
him not to do so. He penetrated more and more 
deeply into the wood ; and the louder the groans 
became, the more he hastened his steps. The 
underbrush greatly hindered his progress, but he 
minded this little ; on the contrary, whatever the 
difficulties in his way, his restlessness did not per- 
mit him to think of danger. Yet a few bounds 
over some small trunks and fallen trees, and he 
reached an open place where the trees almost 
formed a square. Now the sound became louder ; 
and when he looked carefully around, he saw, by 
the first sunbeams which lit up this portion of the 
wood, the Noortdorp Fox. 

In what a distressful state the man was ! He 
lay with his face in the underbrush, his body bend- 


A NIGHT-SCENE. 


63 


ing across a fallen tree, unable to stir, for his arms 
were fastened behind his back and his feet bound 
close together. Round his neck hung a rope in 
the form of a noose. It was evident that the 
Fox owed his life only to the brittleness of the 
branch to which it had been tied. From the con- 
fusion round about him, it could be seen that the 
Fox had tried to lift himself up and to creep away 
on his knees, but he was probably prevented by 
pain. 

Walter was much affected ; he knew not at first 
what to do. He found himself in the presence of 
one who was his mortal enemy, who had betrayed 
his grandfather and probably brought his father to 
the scaffold, and who, if he could, would un- 
doubtedly deliver him to the Spaniards. What 
should he do now? Should he leave his enemy 
to his fate, to certain death ? as he must perish of 
want in this condition. 

Walter stood still, for he dared not go farther. 
The man who lay there helpless had awakened 
such fear within him that the sight of him alone 
was enough to fill him with consternation. For an 
instant he hesitated; for an instant he thought, 
“Now he is in my power; I can now revenge 
myself upon him.” There was a moment when 
he grasped his dagger, but it was only for a 
moment. In the next another groan struck his 
ear, and he ventured to approach the man by a 


64 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


few steps. At a distance of four paces, however, 
he remained standing, and coughed a few times 
to let the Fox know there was some one near. 

“Any one there ?” said the Fox, in a pitiful tone, 
trying to lift his face and look in the direction from 
which the noise came. 

“Yes,” said Walter, softly. 

“Who is it?” asked the Fox. 

“ Walter Harmsen.” 

The Fox quivered with fright. 

“Walter Harmsen,” repeated the lad, thinking 
that the man had not understood him. 

“ The son of the heretic ?” the Fox was going to 
say, but he quickly corrected himself, as he would 
just now rather hide his foxskin under sheep’s 
wool. 

“The son of the old Harmsen who lives back of 
Beverwyk ?” asked the Fox. 

“Who did live there,” in his turn corrected Wal- 
ter, a little sternly. 

The man held his breath and hid his face still 
farther amid the underbrush, in spite of the sharp 
thorns which tore his skin. 

“ He was sold to the Spaniards by a spy,” con- 
tinued Walter, paying no heed to this, “and my 
aged grandfather is now — ” 

Suddenly the Fox turned himself. The villain 
had not laid aside his wiles, and he completed 
Walter’s sentence: 


A NIGHT-SCENE. 


65 


“ Your grandfather is in safety.” 

“ ‘ In safety ’ ! ” repeated Walter, in ecstasy, going 
a step nearer. “ Where is he?” 

“ Close by Haarlem. Your grandfather has 
nothing to fear, for he is under my protection.” 

“Under your protection ?” asked Walter, who 
looked at the Fox in astonishment. 

The villain braved the questioning look of the 
lad, and added, 

“ Yes, he is under my protection, and no harm 
shall befall him.” 

“ But,” said Walter, looking suspiciously at the 
Fox, “Aggie told me that — ” 

“ I thought so,” interrupted the spy; “I thought 
they wanted to throw the blame upon me again. I 
am not guilty.” 

“ Then it was not you who betrayed my grand- 
father ?” 

“ Oh, of course not,” answered the Fox, with the 
most innocent face in the world. 

“And you say you are free from the charge ?” 

“ I am. Oh, these thick ropes ! They pinch me 
so !” he continued, looking imploringly at Walter. 
“ Have you a knife to cut them with ?” 

“ Yes, but—” 

“Do you fear me yet? Well, I will patiently 
suffer my undeserved lot, and first tell you what 
has happened to your grandfather; then you will no 
doubt have pity upon me. I suppose you know that 

5 


66 


WALTER HARMSES. 


the Romish clergy will not suffer any one to accept 
the Reformed faith, and still less to read the Bible ?” 

“ Oh yes, I know that but too well.” 

“ Well, all those who are accused of doing this, 
and are convicted, deserve death.” 

“In the eyes of the Spanish tyrants,” said Wal- 
ter, with fervor, “ but not in the eyes of God.” 

“ Certainly, certainly !” said the Fox, feigning 
assent. “ But let me continue. I had for a long 
time known that your grandfather had a Bible in 
the house and read from it ; I had also learned that 
he stood on the list of those who were to be taken 
prisoner for doing so. I liked your grandfather, 
and therefore I resolved to save him. Oh, these 
cords! They pinch terribly!” 

Walter advanced another step, and the Fox 
went on : 

“ I feared that some one might frustrate my 
plan, and therefore I went one day to two of my 
friends, whom I persuaded to disguise themselves 
as priests. These went to a Spanish captain with 
the request to let them have some soldiers to cap- 
ture that heretic, as they called your grandfather.” 

“ And so my grandfather was, after all, delivered 
up to the Spaniards?” asked Walter, with emotion. 

“ This was only in appearance ; it was the only 
way in which he could be saved. I had arranged 
with my friends to have him brought to a house that 
was known to us, and then to let him escape.” 


A NIGHT-SCENE. 


67 


“And when will that happen?” Walter asked, 
again advancing a step, so that he stood close 
by the Fox. 

“ It has happened already. Yesterday afternoon 
your grandfather escaped under the disguise of a 
Spanish soldier.” 

“‘ Escaped M” Walter exclaimed, and his face 
beamed for joy at the word. But, suddenly remem- 
bering that he had heard just the contrary, he asked 
the Fox, “Is that true? Oh, if I but had a proof 
of that !” 

“I can furnish that at once. But these ropes 
prevent me.” 

“ Where is that proof?” 

“ I have it on my person ; your grandfather 
wrote me some words of gratitude with his own 
hand. Oh, these cords !” 

“ Did my grandfather write it himself?” 

“Do you know his handwriting?” 

“ Certainly ! certainly !” 

“Well, then, loose me, and you shall have the 
writing.” 

The innocent lad suspected nothing. He forgot 
that he had to do with a fox in human shape. In 
a moment the sharp dagger was in his hand, and 
with great rapidity he cut the cords which bound 
the arms of the villain. As soon as the Fox was 
relieved from his bonds he rose up and sat down 
upon the fallen tree. He came near fainting from 


68 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


the effects of his pain, but after a little his powers 
came back to him. 

“ I am glad you are better/’ said Walter, busily 
cutting the remaining cords. 

The Fox gave no answer, but watched him close- 
ly; and no sooner had Walter cut the last strand 
than by a quick movement the Fox struck the 
dagger out of the lad’s hand and seized him un- 
expectedly by the throat. 

Walter grew pale; then indignation made the 
blood rush to his head. Seizing the Fox by the 
head with both hands, he pulled him by the hair 
with one hand and scratched him so terribly in 
the face with the other that the villain was com- 
pelled to let his young antagonist go. At this mo- 
ment Walter saw his dagger lying on the ground, 
and, bending down swift as thought, he waved his 
dagger high in the air, and in this attitude awaited 
his enemy. 

But the Fox was not the man to fear a boy. Al- 
though he trembled with rage and a malicious ex- 
pression curled about his lips, he laughed outright 
when he saw Walter stand before him in such a 
threatening attitude. 

“ Ho, ho, manikin ! Would you defend your- 
self?” he said, mockingly. “ Wait a while; I’ll 
attend to you in a moment. Such bad boys as you 
are — ” He looked around for a cudgel to ward off 
Walter’s dagger; and when he had found one, and 


A NIGHT-SCENE. 


69 


had armed himself with it, he walked straight 
upon the boy, swinging the stick about him. 

But the latter did not wait for his murderer. 
Quickly bending down, he took up a handful of 
earth and threw it into the Fox’s face. The villain 
was forced to desist a moment from the encounter, 
but before he had wiped the earth out of his eyes 
Walter threw a clod, which did not, however, hit 
the mark. The Fox roared with fury, forgot the 
lad’s dagger and rushed upon him. Walter stum- 
bled and fell; the villain threw himself upon him. 
Walter did not lose his presence of mind ; he struck 
at the Fox with his dagger and cut a deep gash in 
his arm. Raging with pain, the spy struck him in 
the face with both fists. But Walter thought not 
of the pain : he could not see his enemy, but he 
held the dagger firmly in his hand, and tried to 
strike the Fox again. The latter, however, seized 
the weapon, forced it from the youthful hand and 
flung it away. 

“ Now you are in my power, heretic !” he roared ; 
and, holding both the lad’s hands in his left hand, 
he struck him some violent blows, so that his head 
sunk unconsciously upon his breast. 

The Fox now released his victim, which he was 
forced to do from the pain in his own arm. The 
blood streamed through his sleeve, and, rolling up 
the wide sleeve, he saw the gaping wound which 
Walter’s knife had dealt him. There was no time 


70 


WALTER II A RMS EN. 


to lose; he tore a piece of linen from his underclothes 
and bound the wound as well as he could. 

“And now it is your turn,” he muttered, ap- 
proaching the unconscious Walter. “ But what 
shall I do with him ?” he said, seeing that the 
lad appeared more dead than alive. “ I may not 
kill him, for I must keep my vow to deliver the 
heretics to the Holy Inquisition. I cannot drag 
him to Haarlem ; I will take him a little distance 
from this spot and fasten him to a tree. If he 
dies, well then it isn’t my fault ; if he revives, he 
will not run away. Meanwhile, I’ll go and get 
assistance from Noortdorp.” 

The Fox was as good as his word. He dragged 
the boy a little farther into the wood and bound 
him fast with his own cords to one of the trees. 

A few moments later the Fox left the place, and, 
in spite of the pain he suffered, he soon reached the 
sandhills. 


CHAPTER Y. 


STRANGE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS. 

W ALTER, the victim of the wicked Fox, had 
been stunned by the cruel blows which the 
villain had dealt him. It was more than ten min- 
utes after the latter left before Walter regained con- 
sciousness. The first feeling of which his conscious- 
ness made him aware was that of great pain, which 
was increased by the pinching of the cords where- 
with the man had bound him to the tree. His head 
had suffered much, and with difficulty could he open 
his eyes, for the blood which flowed from one of 
the wounds. Gradually, however, he succeeded in 
opening them, and, to his sorrow, he perceived 
that he was in a spot where people came very 
rarely. All manner of thoughts rose within him. 
He recalled the horrible scene that presented itself 
to him in his grandfather’s house. He thought 
with horror of the sad death of Aggie, and he 
was sorry that he had not as yet had the oppor- 
tunity of fulfilling her last wish. What must be- 
come of him? He understood that he was in the 
power of the abettor of the Spaniards, and he must 


72 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


expect every moment to see the villain return, and 
lie knew that then he would be treated as his poor 
grandfather had been. He directed his glances 
heavenward, but he could not see the blue sky. 
The oaks and beeches were so lofty that at this 
place they formed a leafy roof which did not per- 
mit the least sunbeam to penetrate it. But, though 
for the moment he could not see the heavens, he 
well knew that above that leafy roof, above that 
blue sky, there dwelt a Lord who regarded the 
poor persecuted orphan. This thought comforted 
him. A sigh, a prayer, rose upward from his 
anxious heart. He besought the Lord to free 
him from his bonds, that opportunity might be 
given him to leave this unsafe region and to flee 
along the coast to South Holland, and there, if 
possible, to obtain some news about his father. 
Thus he prayed and thought. 

Suddenly he heard the sound of a singing multi- 
tude. His heart beat loudly, for he thought it was 
the Fox accompanied by some Spanish soldiers. 
He could see nothing, for he was so bound that 
his back was turned to the road. The singing 
continued, and was occasionally interrupted by 
the clear sound of a bell. The voices came nearer 
and nearer, and distinctly he perceived now that it 
was one of the chants which he formerly had heard 
in a Romish church. The voices seemed to come 
from the south, and, curious to know what this 



Walter sees the Funeral Procession 


Page 73 






















* 


















. 


























































































STRANGE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS. 


73 


could be, he used every exertion to bend himself 
a little to the left, in order to see who or what 
it w^as that was going along the road at this early 
morning hour. 

It was a long procession. At its head went a 
choir-boy wrapped in a long white robe and bear- 
ing a large black cross with the image of the 
Saviour. About four paces behind him came two 
priests decked in full robes, followed by two other 
choir- boys, who carried the trains of the priestly 
garments in their left hands, while their right 
held the chains of the censers which they waved 
continually. Behind these came some foot-sol- 
diers armed with spears trimmed with mourning- 
ribbons. Next followed twelve men, who carried 
a coffin draped with a long black pall. Walter 
could not see what arms w r ere embroidered on it, 
as his inconvenient posture did not permit him to 
do so. Behind these pall-bearers a squire led a 
saddled horse trapped with long black fringes. 
The animal was, no doubt, the favorite riding- 
horse of the noble lord who was being borne to 
his last resting-place. But it seemed to take no 
part in the general mourning, for it threw its 
proud head up and down, shaking its black plume 
violently to and fro. It was now some few moments 
before Walter could see anything further, but soon 
he perceived a number of noble-women dressed in 
all the splendor of those days. This whole pro- 


74 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


cession was closed by some peasants and yeomen, 
who were, doubtless, retainers of the nobleman. 

The procession passed by, no one observing the 
captive boy. The sound of the bell and the chant 
of the priests for a long while fell upon his ear. 
He had wisely refrained from making his presence 
known; for it was evident that the persons who 
were passing by did not belong to his friends. He 
wondered who was that nobleman of whose funeral- 
procession he had been the involuntary witness. 
He was, indeed, acquainted with some of the pos- 
sessors of the castles and noblemen’s houses in the 
vicinity, but lately he had rather avoided these; 
so that he was not certain whose funeral this could 
have been. 

As he was thinking upon this he heard near him 
the voices of two persons in conversation with 
each other. He bent once more in the direction 
of the road, and perceived a maiden of about 
twenty years who was supporting a feeble old man. 
The aged man, bowed by the weight of years, leaned 
with the right arm upon the shoulder of his com- 
panion, while his left hand held a stick, which 
assisted him in walking. The maiden moved very 
slowly, for walking seemed difficult to the old man. 

When they had come to within a short distance 
of the place where Walter was bound, he heard the 
aged man say to the maiden, 

“ It is impossible for me to go farther ; I feel that 


STRANGE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS. 


75 


my strength is exhausted. Do you not see a place 
where I can sit down and rest myself?” 

“ I see a fallen tree yonder, Father Baldwin,” said 
the maiden, pointing to a tree which lay close by 
the one to which Walter stood bound. “Come!” 
she continued, gently conducting him toward it. 
“I will seat myself by you; then you can rest as 
long as you please.” 

Walter heard the leaves and branches crushed 
under their feet, and soon he heard again, but more 
distinctly than before, the voice of the old man ad- 
dressing the maiden : 

“I thank you, dear child; you have done me a 
great favor. No one took pity on me but you. 
Were it not that I had you, I could not have fol- 
lowed my lord and master to the grave. All ! you 
know not, dear Grada, how much I suffered at his 
death.” The old man bent his head upon the stick 
and continued : “ I saw him born, and my arm has 
carried him many a time. I trained him in the use 
of arms ; and when he was twenty years old, we 
went together to the French court, where he en- 
joyed the favor of the knightly King Francis I. 
Afterward we returned hither, and my lord wedded 
the daughter of Lord Van Sassenheim, with whom 
he lived happily till his death. And now — ” 

“But, dear Father Baldwin,” interrupted the 
young maiden, “ why these sad remembrances ? 
You distress yourself too greatly.” 


76 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


“I shall weep for him, Grada, till I go down to 
my grave.” 

“ Hush !” said Grada, taking the old man by the 
hand ; “ I hear the mass for the dead.” 

Reverentially the maiden kneeled, and remained 
in this posture until she could no longer hear the 
chant of the priests. Then she stood up, the old 
man, meanwhile, having remained seated in silence 
during her devout attention. 

“ Grada,” he commenced anew, “ it is now seven 
days since Lord Van Westerhout died ; and if my 
presentiments deceive me not, I shall soon follow 
him. Alas ! I may not rest at his side. A grave 
in the chapel awaits him, but no doubt my body 
will rest among the sandhills. But I pray you 
remember what I am going to tell you. A secret 
oppresses me. I have never yet dared to speak it, 
and still I dare not take it with me to the grave. I 
trust you, for I know that you will keep it faith- 
fully. Will you not?” 

The maiden nodded assent. 

“ Well, then,” continued the aged man, “ listen 
carefully. You know the small hunting-tower to 
the south of our castle ? But seldom was it used, 
for the deceased lord rarely hunted. You will, 
however, recollect how about two years ago the 
late abbot of Egmond, accompanied by horsemen 
and spearmen, came into the castle on a certain 
evening. In the midst of them there was a 


STRANGE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS. 


77 


stranger; his hands were bound, but nevertheless 
he carried his head proudly. There was something 
calm, and yet noble, in the expression of that man’s 
countenance ; and had not the cords betrayed his cap- 
tive condition, certainly, from his bearing, one would 
riot have thought him a prisoner. An hour after the 
man had come into the castle I was summoned by 
my lord. He was seated in a wide arm-chair, 
and his face looked pale and emaciated, for the 
disease which has brought him to his grave was 
undermining him even then. Over-against him 
sat the abbot, in strong contrast to my master. 
No sooner had I entered than the abbot spoke to 
me. 

“‘Baldwin/ he said, ‘1 have brought a prisoner 
here. He is one of the most dangerous of the 
enemies of our holy Church, for he goes all over 
the land, excites the peasantry against the lawful 
count, the king of Spain, despises our sacred mass, 
utters all manner of slanders against the priests, 
and teaches the people an entirely different doc- 
trine from what we preach. We have succeeded 
in capturing this arch-heretic, and we have thought 
of keeping him here till we have consulted with the 
court of the Holy Inquisition. Lord Van Wester- 
hout wishes to confine him till then in the hunting- 
tower, and you are appointed to guard him. You 
will take care that he does not escape, and you will 
bring him his bread and water daily, although I 


78 


WALTER HARMS EN. 


will not count it to you as a sin if you forget it 
occasionally. Do you understand?’ 

“ My master wished to add something, but a dry 
cough prevented him ; so I bowed and withdrew. 
Outside the room stood the prisoner. He looked 
upon me with friendly eyes. I commanded the 
soldiers to let the man follow me, and soon I 
descended with him the broad stairway which led 
to the dungeon in the hunting-tower. I unlocked 
the heavy iron door, pointed the man to his future 
abode, cut his cords and left him. A few moments 
later I returned and brought him bread and water, 
besides an armful of straw. I bade him good-night 
and left him alone. 

“ That night I was to sleep for the first time in 
the little round room which was just above the 
apartment of the prisoner ; but, in whatever way 
I turned me on my bed, I could not succeed in 
falling asleep. The prisoner rose continually before 
my mind. I saw his noble features, and the ex- 
pression of his kind and friendly eye was con- 
stantly before me. All were asleep in the castle; 
the most deathly stillness reigned everywhere. My 
prisoner alone seemed not yet asleep. It seemed to 
me as if he were talking aloud, and, curious to 
know with whom he could be conversing, I quickly 
dressed myself and went down without making any 
noise. Advancing carefully, I at length reached the 
door of his prison. Through the keyhole I could 


STRANGE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS. 


79 


see the moon pouring her light through the barred 
window, and distinctly I perceived the man turning 
his face upward, and heard him say, 

“ ‘ O Lord my God, in thee do I put my trust ; 
save me from all them that persecute me, and deliver 
me. Oh, let the wickedness of the wicked come to 
an end, but establish the just; for the righteous God 
trieth the hearts and reins. My defence is of God, 
which saveth the upright in heart.’ 

u You wonder, dear Grada,” continued the old 
man, while he wiped away the tears which trickled 
down his cheeks — “ you wonder how I have re- 
membered all these words; but it will become plainer 
to you presently. But do I not hear something ? 
I feel certain that I heard a rustling noise among 
the trees.” 

Grada had listened too intently to the old servant 
of the castle to have heard anything else. Had she 
arisen to see what had occasioned the rustling, she 
would certainly have discovered our Walter. He 
too had listened eagerly, for he had a certain pre- 
sentiment, as if what the old man related in some 
way affected himself. But it was very difficult for 
him to remain standing. The cords pinched him 
very much, and in changing his position a little he 
rubbed his back against the tree, whereby he loos- 
ened some pieces of bark, which fell among the 
underbrush. This it was which Baldwin had 
heard, but, as his companion had heard nothing, he 


80 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


attributed the noise to a hare that ran by. He 
turned again to Grada and continued : 

“With astonishment I heard these words of the 
prisoner, and, desirous of hearing more, I kept my 
ear at the keyhole. A few minutes later I heard 
these words : 

“ ‘ The Lord is my light and my salvation ; 
whom shall I fear ? The Lord is the strength of 
my life; of whom shall I be afraid? Hide not 
thy face far from me ; put not thy servant away in 
anger. Deliver me not over unto the will of mine 
enemies. Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my 
voice.’ 

“ He was silent for a few moments. My eye 
sought him ; he yet stood with his face upturned. 
He next walked up and down the floor of his cell 
a few times. Then he removed his outer garment, 
felt with his hand about his body, and drew forth 
some book-leaves, which he read by the light of 
the moon. He occupied about ten minutes with 
this, then concealed the leaves once more, put on 
the outer garment and threw himself on his knees. 
He prayed. Never shall I forget the words which 
I heard from his lips.” 

The old man became silent a while, drew his 
hand across his forehead, and breathed with diffi- 
culty. 

“And what did the prisoner pray ?” asked Grada, 
who had listened very attentively. 


STRANGE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS. 


81 


The old man looked around, and, as if he feared 
that some one might hear him, he bent over to the 
maiden and said so softly that Walter could with 
difficulty hear it, 

“ Listen carefully, and remember it even as I 
have remembered it during these two years. The 
prisoner knelt and prayed, 

“ ‘ Lord Jesus — ’ ” 

At these words the maiden devoutly crossed her- 
self. 

“‘Lord Jesus/” continued the old man. repeat- 
ing the prisoner’s words, “ ‘ thou wast delivered for 
our transgressions ; ' thou didst die on the cross the 
death that we deserved. But thou, Lord God, didst 
so love the world that thou gavest thine only begot- 
ten Son that whosoever believeth in him should not 
perish, but have everlasting life. This thou hast, 
O Lord, revealed unto me of thy mercy, and thv 
word, the Bible, has taught me the precious truth that 
there is now no condemnation for him that believeth 
on Jesus Christ. That truth was long hid from me, 
for thy word lay in chains, and Rome’s priests suf- 
fered not that the perishing people should learn the 
precious truth. But eternal thanks be unto thee, 
Lord God, that thou hast brought me out of dark- 
ness into thy marvelous light ! Now I know that 
Jesus Christ is my Saviour and my justification. O 
Lord my God, hear my prayer ! The wicked have 
cast me into this prison ; Lord, suffer not that they 


82 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


should do me hurt. Thou hast delivered me from 
darkness : deliver me now from the hands of men. 
Be near unto me. Be also near unto my child, my 
son, whom I love. What dangers may not threaten 
him ? Thou alone knowest. But how great soever 
that peril may be, O Lord, hear the prayer of thy 
servant, and preserve him and sulfer him not to go 
astray from sound doctrine. Thy will be done. 
Amen.’ ” 

The old man was completely overcome when he 
had spoken these words. He hid his face in his 
hands and sobbed aloud, so deeply seemed the 
recollection of the prisoner’s prayer to have af- 
fected him. His companion was not less moved. 
Now and then, indeed, she had trembled when 
Rome’s priests were alluded to, but Baldwin’s 
simple story, compassion for the poor man in the 
dungeon, the new strange words which she had 
heard, — all this had made such an impression 
upon her heart that her eyes too had filled with 
tears. 

And Walter? When he heard the old man 
repeat the words of the prisoner, “ Be nigh also 
unto my child, my son,” it seemed to him as if a 
voice told him, “ They are the words of your 
father.” Still, he kept himself quiet; for, in 
spite of the pain from his wounds and the cords, 
he was anxious to learn something further about 
the prisoner. 


STRANGE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS. 


83 


“ And what happened more, dear Father Bald- 
win ?” asked the maiden. 

The aged man raised his head and looked ques- 
tioningly at her, as if he would read in her eyes 
what effect his words had had upon her. Satisfied 
upon this point, he took her by the hand and said, 

“ I knew, Grada, that I would not be deceived in 
you ; I know that you take an interest in all that 
concerns me, and you rightly suspect that what 
follows stands in close relation to myself. I will 
therefore continue. When I heard these words of 
the prisoner, it seemed to me as if they were new 
and glad tidings ; they sank into my heart. Tears 
filled my eyes. I was still at the keyhole — or, 
rather, I had kneeled down and was leaning with 
my head against the door. How long I had thus 
been kneeling I know not, but at length I heard 
the prisoner approach the door and whisper, 

“ ‘ Is any one there ?’ 

u This wakened me from my seemingly uncon- 
scious condition. I reflected, and remained for a 
moment undecided what to do; but I could not 
repress my burning desire to converse with the 
prisoner. 

“ ‘ Hush !’ I replied, taking care that my voice 
was heard by him alone. 

“ With the utmost caution I turned the key in 
the lock and entered his dungeon.” 

Walter’s heart beat violently ; he controlled him- 


84 


WALTER HARMSEK 


self with difficulty. He prayed the Lord to give 
him strength to endure his painful position a little 
longer. 

Baldwin continued : 

“ The prisoner stood with his arms folded upon 
his breast. At that moment I could see little of 
his face, for, whether he did so purposely or not, 
he stood at my entrance where the moonlight could 
not reach him. I had locked the door after me, 
and held the keys in my hand. I was there under 
greatly embarrassing circumstances, and I knew not 
what to say. The prisoner, indeed, observed this 
himself, and, approaching me, he asked, 

“ ‘ With what intent have you come to disturb 
me in my prayer? Did your master command you 
to bring me before the priests, or to convey me in 
secret to Amsterdam in order to torture me there? 
Well, I am prepared/ 

“ I could make no reply, and shook my head. 

“ ‘ Why do you yet hesitate f again inquired the 
prisoner. ‘At least tell me the purpose of your 
coming ? J 

“ ‘ I heard a noise in your cell/ I answered, at 
last, ‘ and wished to know what it was/ 

“ ‘ And — ? ? asked the prisoner. 

“ ‘ Your prayer touched me/ 

“ ‘ My prayer V 

“ ‘ Yes, your prayer/ I repeated, gaining cour- 
age. 


STRANGE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS. 


85 


“ The prisoner advanced a few steps toward me. 
The moonlight now shone brightly upon his pale 
features. He held his eyes fixedly upon me, and, 
laying his hand on mine, he said with an earnest 
voice, but with a benignity which I shall never 
forget, 

“‘Dost thou believe in the Lord Jesus Christ? 
Dost thou believe that thou art a miserable sinner 
who can receive the forgiveness of sins alone by 
his blood, through his cross ?’ 

“ I was dumb. I could find no words ; it seemed 
as though my voice would choke in giving my emo- 
tions utterance. 

“ The prisoner continued : 

“ ‘ Dost thou feel thyself to be lost without the 
Lord Jesus Christ? Dost thou know any other 
way of salvation except in him ? Knowest thou 
that thou mayest be his now and to eternity V 
“I could no longer keep my feet, but, falling 
upon my knees, I cried out, 

“ ‘ Oh, sir, what must I do to be saved V 
“ The prisoner took both of my hands in his, 
and, lifting me up, he said, 

“‘Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou 
shalt be saved. All that the Lord requires of you 
is to believe in him, to rest on him/ 

“‘But how may I attain that belief f I asked, 
with tremulous voice. 

“ ‘ It is the gift of God, my friend. If you 


86 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


pray to him for it, he will not withhold it from 
you.’ 

“The prisoner wished to say more, but at this 
moment I heard the sound of a trumpet announc- 
ing that some one wished to be admitted to the 
castle. Quickly I rose and pressed his hand, and, 
whispering to him, ‘Till to-morrow evening,’ I 
hurriedly left the prison and betook myself to the 
gate.” 

The old man drew a deep sigh and wiped the 
perspiration from the forehead. Grada threw her 
left arm about him to give him some support. 
After resting a few moments he continued : 

“ I visited him the next morning, accompanied 
by a servant, who carried a flask of water, with 
some bread. Without speaking a word I set these 
articles before the prisoner and departed with the 
servant. That whole day I saw him not again, for 
fear of being watched ; but when evening had 
fallen and all was quiet at the castle, I once more 
crept through the long hall, opened the dungeon, 
and found myself in the presence of the man who 
had something so peculiarly attractive for me. I 
sat at his feet like a child by his father, listening to 
all that he said. Oh, Grada, would that you 
knew how happy I have become since that conver- 
sation !” 

The aged man ceased speaking. The recollection 
of this important occurrence had so filled him with 


STRANGE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS 


87 


emotion that he was compelled to take a few 
moments’ rest. 

Grada knew nothing about these things; she had 
never heard anything except what the Romish 
Church had taught her. She knew, indeed, a 
long list of saints, but that one holy One had never 
found a place within her soul, because she felt no 
need. Still, all that Baldwin was relating filled her 
with concern, and therefore she could not refrain 
from asking, 

“ How long did the prisoner remain in his 
prison ?” 

The old man was a little startled at hearing this 
question, but, soon recovering himself, he said, 

“ The next morning the prisoner had disap- 
peared — ” 

“ ‘ Disappeared ’!” interrupted Grada. “ Had he 
escaped? and did some one assist him?” 

u Ask me not, dear child,” said the old man ; “ I 
can only tell you that the prisoner escaped by means 
of a hidden passage-waj' which opened into the 
hunting-tower. When, on the next afternoon, I 
entered with some soldiers to take him away, he 
was not there. We could easily trace the manner 
of his escape, for in the south corner of the tow- 
er stood an open trapdoor which led to a staircase. 
The soldiers ascended the steps to see if the prisoner 
had concealed himself in some other place, but after 
spending fully an hour in searching they returned; 


88 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


and we had to inform the abbot, who was with my 
master, that the prisoner had found a way of escape. 
You may imagine with w r hat fury he received this 
information. He struck the table with clenched 
hand and said, ‘ That I must see myself before I 
will believe that this heretic has escaped/ And, 
indeed, he went with us, but, having reached the 
trapdoor in the dungeon, he was forced to interrupt 
his search ; for, unfortunately for himself, the abbot 
was so fat that the narrow opening was too small 
for him. In his rage he hurled all manner of in- 
vectives at me and threatened me with great pun- 
ishment for my lack of watchfulness. But when 
I came to my master, I noticed by his countenance 
that this would not be so heavily visited upon me. 
The soldiers were, indeed, ordered to search the 
castle from top to bottom, but the prisoner was 
away, and stayed away. One thing, however, he 
had left behind him in his prison. He had scratched 
upon the wall with a nail or some other sharp in- 
strument the following woitls : ‘ Vengeance is mine, 
I will repay, saith the Lord/ Beneath this was 
his name.” 

“ And what was it?” 

“ Hush, child, hush !” said the old man ; “ that 
name may not be spoken aloud here. A great 
price is set upon the head of that man, and who- 
ever can point out where he lives, or can take him 
captive, receives a large sum of money.” 


STRANGE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS. 


89 


“ But will you not tell me the name ?” asked 
Grada, whose interest in the man was growing. 

The old man first looked carefully around ; and 
when he saw that they were alone, he said, half 
whispering to Grada, but yet audible to Walter, 
“ The prisoner’s name was Ralph Harm sen.” 

In the same instant they heard close by them a 
cry which caused Grada to spring up, while the old 
man let fall his stick ; and before they had the op- 
portunity to recover from their fright they dis- 
tinctly heard the words, 

“ I thank thee, O God, that thou didst deliver 
my father from the hands of his enemies !” 

Baldwin and his youthful companion looked at 
each other in astonishment, and it was some few 
minutes before the old man could come to any 
decision. Then he grasped Grada’s hand, and, 
directing his eyes toward the place whence the 
sound had come, he cried with trembling voice, 

“ Is any one there who knows us?” 

No answer came. Baldwin repeated, somewhat 
more distinctly, the same words ; but only the rust- 
ling of the oak-leaves gave answer to his question. 

The old man considered a few moments ; he 
looked at Grada, as if expecting from her lips 
advice how to act; but Grada only shrugged her 
shoulders, while her face betokened anxiety. Bald- 
win hesitated a second or two, but, directing a 
glance heavenward, as if expecting the best coun- 


90 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


sel thence, he arose and went to that part of the 
woods from whence he had first heard the cry. 
But scarcely had he advanced ten steps when it 
was his turn to utter a cry of astonishment, for 
he saw a lad bound with strong cords to a tree, 
and evidently unconscious. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE WORD OF GOD IN FRAGMENTS. 

T HE sun was near setting, but was still lighting 
the tops of the trees which surrounded a small 
dwelling-house in the vicinity of the old hunting- 
castle which belonged to the deceased lord of 
Westerhout. This dwelling looked quite dilapi- 
dated, but had all that attractively rustic appear- 
ance about it which we so delight to notice in old 
houses. It had but one window, with small panes 
of glass set in lead, and, according to the then pre- 
vailing custom, painted in several places. The 
evening sun shone in through the window and 
gave just sufficient light to allow one to view the 
objects in the room. Opposite this window stood 
a bedstead, and in this, in a half-sitting, half-re- 
clining posture, could plainly be perceived the 
form of some one who seemed engaged in reading. 
At least, he had in his hand a piece of paper which 
was, indeed, torn in many places, but was evidently 
serviceable still. Presently he folded the leaf, drew 
his hand across his forehead, and then, directing his 

91 


92 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


glance toward the window to see as much as possible 
of the sky, he said, 

“ O Lord, thou lookest from heaven and behold- 
est all the sons of men. Thou seest me also, and 
thou hast not willed that my enemy should hold 
me in his power. Thine eye wast upon me when 
I was in great danger. Be still further with me ; 
all that thou doest is well done. Thou hast let 
me hear something about my father again. O 
Lord, be nigh unto him, and once more bring me 
to him that I may see him after whom my heart 
yearns so greatly.” 

A noise was heard near. Walter — for the read- 
er has, no doubt, recognized our young friend — 
quickly concealed the papers in his waistcoat and 
laid his head upon the pillow. He had rightly 
heard, for the noise came nearer, and some min- 
utes later the door of the apartment was opened 
and the aged Baldwin entered. He cautiously 
approached Walter’s couch, drew the green curtain 
a little aside and looked upon the lad. 

“ I am not asleep, Baldwin,” said Walter. “ I 
have been awake about an hour, and have been 
waiting for you. Could you not come sooner?” 

“ I had much to do,” answered he. “ This after- 
noon we learned that the Spaniards intend marching 
upon Alkmaar along this road, and so I had many 
things to attend to for my mistress, who wishes to 
leave these parts as soon as possible. But no one 


THE WORD OF GOD IN FRAGMENTS. 93 


knows you are here except Grada and her brother 
Dirk, and I have confidence in them that they will 
not betray you.” 

“ I do not believe they will, dear Baldwin,” said 
the boy, “ but it would be very agreeable to me to 
be able to go away from here as early as possible, 
especially since, as you say, the road to Wyk-upon- 
the-Sea is safer now ; and from that place I could 
follow the seashore, and so reach the neighborhood 
of Leyden, and then go to Delft, where perhaps my 
father at present is.” 

“ It would be well, Walter,” said the old man, 
“ if you could have one more day’s rest ; Dirk can 
then accompany you as far as the strand. Besides, 
your hands and feet have suffered too much. How 
are you at present ?” 

“Oh, I thank you, much better. The salve which 
Grada brought has done me much good. I feel 
only a slight itching, and hope, with God’s help, 
soon to be perfectly well. Have you heard noth- 
ing of the Noortdorp Fox?” 

The old man frowned at the mention of this 
detested name, and replied, 

“ About an hour ago I heard from one of the 
servants that the Noortdorp Fox, as you call him, 
was at the castle and wished to be admitted. 
Entrance, however, was refused him, for there is 
no one here who loves him.” 

“ I wonder what he has in view now ? It cannot 


94 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


be that he has found out that I am here?” asked 
Walter. 

“ I believe not,” was the answer ; “ but what 
would it matter? He can do you no harm here. 
I am, indeed, an old man, and alone, but I will 
keep a watchful eye. Dirk, also, has promised me 
that he will presently visit you. Be assured I will 
warn you in time when danger threatens. You do 
not fear ?” 

a Oh no, Father Baldwin. I know that no one 
can harm me without the will of God. But tell 
me,” he continued : “ was my father in good health ? 
Did he not complain ? Did he not say one word 
about me? Oh, Baldwin, if you knew how much 
I love him, you would repeat to me every word 
which he spoke to you.” 

The aged man reflected a while, and then said, 

6( Now I recollect the last words which he spoke 
to me. He said, ‘ Baldwin, I came by way of Enk- 
huizen and Alkmaar to inquire after my father and 
my child in these regions. It does not seem to be 
the Lord’s will that I should see them at present, 
but I have prayed the Lord. He will preserve my 
son and confirm him in the faith ; he will not suffer 
him to depart from the Lord’s word, and I trust 
that he will let me see him once more.’ ” 

The tears streamed down Walter’s cheeks when 
he heard these words, and it was some minutes 
before he recovered his composure: 


THE WORD OF GOD IN FRAGMENTS. 95 


“ Why did you not tell me this before, Bald- 
win ?” 

“ Could I have done this? We found you in a 
critical situation. After I had succeeded in cutting 
the ropes, you fell unconscious into Grada’s arms. 
You were not in a condition to hear anything of 
this kind.” 

“ Oh, I thank you greatly, dear Baldwin,” Wal- 
ter interrupted. “ How can I ever repay you ?” 

“ That is unnecessary,” answered the old man ; 
“ I am infinitely obliged to your father. He, 
indeed, it was who made known to me something 
I knew not before, but which now is my greatest 
delight. Moreover, your father gave me half of 
what he possessed of God’s word, as he called the 
Bible, and which I have since learned it to be.” 

“ Have you that still ?” asked Walter. 

The old man said nothing, but went to the door, 
opened it, looked outside, closed and locked it. 

“ We cannot be too heedful,” he said ; “ we are 
surrounded by many persons who think they render 
God service when they betray such as have a Bible 
in their possession, were it but part of one.” He 
thereupon went to the side of the bedstead and 
opened a little closet, from which he took some 
papers rolled together. “ See,” he said, “ what I 
received from your father. It is a pity that the 
evening is close upon us ; otherwise, you might 
read. This part is the Epistle to the Romans, but 


96 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


only to the end of the eighth chapter. But what a 
precious close it is, is it not? Oh, Walter, how 
well it is for us to know in truth what the apostle 
says in the last two verses !” 

“ I do not remember/’ said Walter. “ Can you 
repeat them to me ?” 

The old man said with earnest voice which yet 
betokened a certain joyousness, 

“ ‘ I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, 
nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things 
present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, 
nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us 
from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our 
Lord.’ ” 

“ Yes,” said Walter, “ it is indeed true, as you 
said, that it is well for us to know this. Nothing 
— no one — can separate us from the love of God in 
Christ Jesus.” 

“ I, at least, am heartily glad and happy,” con- 
tinued Baldwin, “ that I know this. Formerly I 
knew nothing of that love. I indeed faithfully 
attended mass in church, but the prayers which I 
heard there or which I offered myself were only to 
persons outside of Jesus. Now I know that I have 
no need of a mediator or a priest between him and 
me in order to come to him. Nothing separates me 
from God’s love.” 

Meanwhile, Walter had succeeded in finding this 
portion of the eighth chapter of the Epistle to the 


THE WORD OF GOD IN FRAGMENTS. 97 


Romans, and, using every effort to catch the few 
beams of light that remained, he said, 

“There is something further here, Father Bald- 
win, about love.” 

“ How does it begin ?” 

“ ‘ Who shall separate — ’ ” 

“Oh, I know what it is,” interrupted the old 
man: “ 1 Who shall separate us from the love of 
Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecu- 
tion, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword ?’ 
I wish,” he continued, “that I might hear more 
of God’s word. I have not been fortunate enough 
in all this time to obtain a Bible. I have nothing 
but the first eight chapters of Romans and a por- 
tion of John’s Gospel, the latter part being lacking. 
More than this I have not.” 

Walter thought a moment, and then said, 

“ Perhaps I can help you. Be so kind as to step 
a little out of my light; then I can see what I 
have.” 

The aged Baldwin did as Walter requested, and 
saw that the latter drew from his waistcoat a great 
quantity of loose leaves and examined the same so 
far as the darkness permitted him. 

“Yes, I can assist you,” said Walter. “Here I 
have the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first chap- 
ters of the Gospel of John. It is, indeed, torn in 
different places, but that is not my fault. Add this 
to yours ; then you have at least one whole book. 

7 


/ 

98 WALTER HARMSEN. 

I have also a part of Luke here, and, as I know 
the second and third chapters almost by heart, I 
can easily part with them. Will you accept them 
from me?” 

The aged man was so carried away by joy that 
he could find no words to express his gratitude, 
but took Walter’s hand and kissed it heartily. 
Walter once more folded his papers and concealed 
them in the same place from which he had taken 
them, while Baldwin locked his in the little closet. 

“ Now tell me, dear Walter,” said Baldwin, 
“what your intentions are. You said something 
about them awhile ago, but I believe you ought not 
to reject my counsel to rest here for some time yet. 
On the other hand, I must say that it were better 
that you went away from here ; and the sooner, the 
better, for who can tell what to-morrow may bring 
us? But, at all events, you must stay here this 
night. I usually sleep in the round chamber in the 
hunting-tower, but as soon as all is quiet I shall 
come here and spend the night at your side. Per- 
haps Dirk will come also; he can keep you com- 
pany. I shall give him the key of this dwelling ; 
I hope he will come. Grada has promised to send 
him. Do you approve of that ?” 

Walter nodded assent and said, 

“ I long to see Dirk again, the good fellow ! He 
helped me so much, and asked repeatedly with such 
great concern how I felt.” 


THE WORD OF GOD IN FRAGMENTS. 99 

"Yes,” added Baldwin, “he is a good lad ; there 
is something in him. I trust you will be able to 
say something to him ; you understand what I mean. 
But now I must go,” continued Baldwin ; “ it must 
be about nine o’clock, and soon the bell for the 
vesper-bread will be heard, at which all who are in 
the service of my mistress are called into the large 
kitchen to partake of supper. I therefore must go. 
Do you wish anything more ?” 

“ I do so much desire you to kneel down at my 
bedside and pray with me before you leave. Will 
you do this?” 

Without uttering a word against this, Baldwin 
kneeled down and prayed. The eyes of both were 
closed to all earthly things, and were only directed 
to One, their only Advocate in heaven or in earth, 
Jesus Christ. 

Had they had eyes for earthly objects, they might 
have seen amid the shadows of the night an enemy 
who went about, like the evil one, seeking as a 
roaring lion whom he might devour. Then perhaps 
they would have observed how the Noortdorp Fox 
leaned with his ear against a crack in the door, lis- 
tening with all his might to what was spoken there 
in quiet solitude — as it were, alone with God. 

The aged man arose, handed Walter some few re- 
freshments which he had brought with him and bade 
him good-night, adding that about eleven or twelve 
o’clock he would be with him. After this, Bald- 


100 


WALTER II A RMS EN. 


win left the room, and, leaning upon his stick, 
took the direction of the castle. 

“ So !” muttered the Noortdorp Fox as he saw 
him disappearing in the shadows of the night ; 
“now it is my turn. This is quite a heretic hole. 
Who would have thought that Baldwin also be- 
longed to the apostates from our holy Church ? 
But this comes of not rooting out the heretics.” He 
leaned against a knotty oak tree, thinking of w T hat 
to do in order to entrap both Walter and Baldwin. 

While the Fox stood there seemingly unable to 
decide upon any plan, he saw by the light of the 
rising moon that some one was approaching. Soon 
he heard the same person humming a tune, and, not 
knowing whether it was a friend or an enemy, he 
concealed himself as quickly as possible behind a 
tree in order to await unseen the approaching 
person. 

The singer was none other than Dirk Gapertz, 
Grada’s brother. He was a fine lad, large of 
stature, with a good pair of eyes in his head. 
Full of life as he was, he possessed a heart for 
everything that had any attractiveness for a youthful 
temperament. The rattling of arms sounded more 
pleasantly in his ears than the mass of Mr. Jasper 
Peters, the parish priest of Egmond-upon-the-Sea. 
Therefore he was not at all sorry that the scene of 
the war between the Dutch and the Spaniards had 
shifted to these regions, and he was too young — or, 


THE WORD OF GOD IN FRAGMENTS. 101 

rather, too little acquainted with the moving causes 
of this struggle — to be able to judge which of the 
two parties was in the right. Just now he sided 
with the Spaniards — not so much because they sup- 
pressed the Reformation in the land with such great 
inhumanity as because they were the victors. As 
for Dirk’s religious principle, this did not amount 
to a great deal ; he never thought upon the subject. 
He confessed the Romish faith, since he knew no 
better than that this ought so to be. He knew all 
the saints of Rome by name, but the one Name by 
which men can be saved was altogether strange to 
him — or, rather, he knew only the sound of that 
name, not its meaning. This was the lad whom we 
have heard mentioned as the brother of Grada, and 
who now, passing the hiding-place of the Fox, 
walked straight toward the dwelling wherein our 
Walter found himself. 

“ Who is there?” cried Walter, who raised him- 
self in the bed at the rattling of the lock. 

“ Keep yourself quiet ; it is I.” 

“ Dirk ?” 

“ The same, in proper person. But, by St. 
Nicholas, how dark it is! Where are you? Are 
you still in bed ?” 

“ Yes, Dirk, for Father Baldwin told me so 
pressingly to keep quiet that I would not have 
dared to disobey him in this.” 

“Well, Walter, Father Baldwin may be right, 


102 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


and therefore I will not say anything. But it will 
be just as well for us to see each other. Grada said 
that a lamp was hanging somewhere close by the 
bedstead.” 

Feeling with his hands along the wall, he searched 
until he found the wished-for object. He took the 
lamp from the nail and placed it upon the table 
near the bedstead. He was just busy taking out 
the articles which were to serve in lighting the 
lamp, when suddenly something seemed to occur 
to him. He ran quickly to the window and placed 
a sort of shutter before it, whereby it became diffi- 
cult for outsiders to observe what took place inside, 
much to the grief of the Fox, who was now for a 
moment baffled in his treacherous designs. He 
speedily left the place, raising his clenched fist 
threateningly against the house. 

“ I had almost forgotten,” said Dirk, softly, 
“ what Father Baldwin charged me to do. Those 
who are outside have no business to look in here, 
were they nothing but trees ; for I have heard it 
said more than once that even trees have eyes.” 

Having completed this thoughtful arrangement, 
Dirk took from his pocket a small box containing 
a piece of steel, besides tinder and flint. He struck 
the steel against the flint until the tinder caught fire, 
then blew upon the tinder until it glowed brightly. 
From the box he took a small thin piece of wood; 
this he held near the tinder, continuing to blow 


THE WORD OF GOD IN FRAGMENTS. 103 

until the wood caught the flame, so that he could 
now light the lamp. 

“ So, Walter,” he said, turning a friendly face 
toward the boy, “now we can see each other. How 
are you since morning?” 

“Very well, Dirk. I am glad you have come, 
for I must say that it is not pleasant to lie thus 
in the dark alone.” 

“You are right, Walter; therefore I came to 
have a talk with you, and I will stay here till 
Father Baldwin comes. I have brought you some- 
thing to drink. Wait a minute,” he continued, tak- 
ing out a small stone bottle; “here is a drop of 
spiced wine. This will do you good. I haven’t a 
glass, but boys like us can do without. And look 
what I’ve got here,” he went on, holding up a large 
paper parcel and throwing the contents upon the 
table ; “ this is something extra. I found it by the 
cook in the kitchen, who had received it from the 
dessert of the lady of Westerhout. I thought it 
would taste as nice to me as to him, and he hasn’t 
any teeth to chew with ; therefore I took a hand- 
ful of sugar-plums and cakes. I hope you don’t 
dislike them ? There ! take a taste.” 

“ No, thank you,” said Walter, somewhat shortly. 

“ Come, now ! It’s well meant, Walter ; I brought 
it along on purpose for you.” 

“That may be, dear Dirk, but I would rather 
not eat anything of it; and if you love me, put it 


104 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


all up again in the paper and take it back to the 
cook.” 

“ And what for ?” 

“ Because it doesn’t belong to you.” 

“Now, that would be nice! You must not take 
things so strictly : that is what Mr. Jasper Peters, 
the priest, says.” 

“ No, Dirk ; you need not take the trouble to per- 
suade me : I will eat nothing of it. The Lord 
forbids me.” 

“Yes, the priest doesn’t want it, either; but 
when I have confessed and given my penny, every- 
thing that is wrong becomes all right again — except 
for the twenty Ave Marias which I must mutter 
over that day.” 

“ And do you not fear that the Lord will punish 
you for it ?” 

“ I thought of that at first, too, but the priest 
told me once, ‘ Let me take care of that.’ Well, 
he may, for my part.” 

Walter shook his head compassionately; he 
pitied poor Dirk, who knew so little of the way 
of life. 

Meanwhile, Dirk put the candies quietly back 
in the paper, and then, taking the stone bottle 
in his hand, said, 

“ Well, then, this you will not despise. The 
cook has nothing to say about this.” 

“This is very nice, Dirk,” said Walter, taking a 


THE WORD OF GOD IN FRAGMENTS. 105 

long draught. “ Ha ! that’s refreshing. I had a 
burning thirst.” 

“ Now, perhaps you can’t guess,” said Dirk, after 
setting the bottle on the table and placing himself, 
half leaning, half sitting, upon the edge of the bed- 
stead — “ perhaps you can’t guess what I would 
gladly learn from you?” 

“What is it?” said Walter, pleasantly, secretly 
rejoicing that his counsel had had such good effect. 

“ I would like to know so very much,” continued 
Dirk, “how I shall manage it to see Don Frederick 
de Toledo, who besieged and took Haarlem.” 

Walter frowned at the mention of this name and 
had a word ready on his lips which would not have 
sounded very agreeable in Dirk Gapertz’s ears ; but 
he bethought himself in time, and contented him- 
self with asking simply, 

“ Why would you like to see that man so much?” 

“ How can you ask that ? The whole world has 
his name in the mouth ; everywhere you hear of 
his great courage and his fame. Could I but see 
that man, I would be very happy.” 

“ And what good would it do you ?” 

“‘Good’ ! Well, as I should see him in all his 
glory, with his beautiful armor, his flashing sword 
and his plumed hat, I would go to him and say, 
‘ Don Frederick de Toledo, may I lend you a hand ? 
I would so much like to help you fight ,!’ ” 

“Help him fight?” asked Walter, astonished. 


106 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“Help him fight? Against whom, then, would 
you use arms?” 

“ Now, that is a great question !” cried Dirk, 
clapping his hands. “ Mr. Jasper Peters, the priest, 
would say, 

‘ I never saw greater foolishness : 

He asks for the village that lies before him.’ 

Fight? Why, against the — Yes — Against 
whom is it? How does the priest call those peo- 
ple who make faces at Holy Mary?” 

Walter, in spite of all the seriousness which the 
question about Don Frederick had occasioned, could 
but laugh heartily at Dirk’s novel way of express- 
ing himself. 

“How could I know that, Dirk?” he replied. 
“ I have never yet spoken to the priest, neither do 
I believe there are any people who make faces at 
Mary. Did not she die long ago?” 

“Yes; I did not mean it so. I mean something 
else. But that takes me too far away from my sub- 
ject. Oh, how are these people called ?” 

“I am sorry I can’t tell you,” replied Walter. 
“ But it does not matter how these people are 
called, does it, against whom you wish to fight ? 
The question is, Have they done you so much evil 
that you would therefore war against them ?” 

“ That’s not it exactly,” answered Dirk, “ but I 
want to fight for the sake of being near Don Fred- 


THE WOUD OF GOD IN FRAGMENTS. 107 

erick de Toledo, and to become as great a man as 
he is.” 

Walter listened calmly to the lively Dirk. He 
comprehended that he must speak with prudence, 
and, laying his hand upon Dirk’s arm, he said, 

“ Listen, Dirk; I must tell you something. But 
you must promise me not to get angry.” 

“ Angry ! angry !” answered the latter. “ Say 
on. Between such good friends as we are, getting 
angry mustn’t be thought of.” 

Walter took Dirk’s hand in his, pressed it kindly 
and said, 

“ If 1 understand you aright, you would count 
yourself very happy if you could become a great 
man — a hero, for instance?” 

“ Just so ; that is the right word. A hero with a 
plumed hat.” 

“ Well, Don Frederick has taken Haarlem, as 
you know — ” 

“ Yes,” interrupted Dirk, u and made many a 
one a head smaller.” 

“ Exactly ; but what for ?” 

“ Because they were rebels, of course.” 

“So you think, but it is not true. Those people 
are rebels no further than that they want to read 
the Bible and seek all their salvation in the Lord 
Jesus.” 

Dirk immediately crossed himself at hearing this 
name, and Walter continued: 


108 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“ I want to ask you a question. That lamp there 
on the table — who lighted it?” 

“ Why, I did,” answered Dirk. 

“ And what do you say of that lamp ?” 

“ That it is burning right nicely.” 

“Well, but suppose some people should tell you 
that lamp doesn’t burn; it gives no light; it is dark 
in the room. What would you say to that?” 

“ Why, I should think that there was something 
the matter with their upper story,” replied Dirk, 
lightly. 

Walter smiled, and continued : 

“ That’s the way it is with the people you call 
rebels. Your Church teaches that the priest can 
forgive your sins ; your Church also teaches that 
the priest can get you into heaven, and that heaven 
can be earned. Then she forbids you to read the 
word of God, the Bible, from which alone we can 
learn to know what the Lord God has spoken to 
us. She commands you to kneel down — or, at 
least, to give great honor — to images of men, 
although the Lord has forbidden all this in the 
Bible. The Bible is a book which makes our sins 
known to us and points us to the one Saviour who 
has died for our sins. This is the light which the 
so-called heretics find in the Bible and your Church 
says it is not true. What do you think of that?” 

“ I ?” asked Dirk, who had become very sedate — 
“ I ? I should think that God knows better than 


THE WORD OF GOD IN FRAGMENTS. 109 

all the priests put together, Mr. Jasper Peters him- 
self into the bargain.” 

“ Well said!” rejoined Walter, taking courage; 
for he was afraid that he had made Dirk angry 
by his plain manner of speaking. “Well said! 
Yes, the Lord does know better, and he has told 
us so in his word.” 

“ But how do you know this so certainly ?” 

“ Because I have often read the Bible, and know 
much of it by heart.” 

“ Then you are also such a — Oh, that name 
has slipped me again ! Such a — ” 

“ Heretic, you mean, is it not? But rest assured 
I never yet made faces at Mary, for the simple rea- 
son that I never saw her.” 

Dirk laughed heartily. 

“ Now,” continued Walter, “ in that word of God 
there is something quite different from what your 
priest teaches. It says that no one can give you 
heaven — no priest, no pope, no Virgin Mary — 
even if all the holy apostles came to your assist- 
ance; none except One.” 

“ And that One is — ?” asked Dirk, softly, hold- 
ing his eyes upon Walter. 

“Jesus, for his name is ‘Saviour/ He has died 
upon the cross for your sins. Only one thing he 
asks of you.” 

“ And that is — ?” 

“To believe that he is your Saviour.” 


110 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


“ Doesn’t Don Frederick believe this, then ?” 
asked Dirk. 

“ I doubt that very much ; for else how could he 
persecute those poor people who believe this and 
cannot call the darkness light?” 

Dirk sat silently upon the edge of the bedstead 
and reflected. 

“ One question, dear Dirk : Do you still wish to 
see Don Frederick or become like him ?” 

Dirk did not think long, but, springing up from 
the bedstead, he said, 

“ Let Don Frederick de Toledo go ! Do you 
know I am going to propose something else? I 
am going to stay with you ; I am going everywhere 
you go. Do you want to take me along ?” 

“ You know I am a persecuted heretic” 

“ Well, then I want to become a heretic too, if 
only to remain near you. And, whether you like 
it or not, I shall stay with you even though my 
whole family should oppose me.” 

“ Think of what you are doing. Pray first to 
the Lord ; in all that we undertake we should ask his 
guidance. He is our only light. But what is that? 
What do I hear? What an uproar and clashing 
of arms!” 

They did, in fact, both hear the sound of arms. 
Walter sprang out of bed, hastily dressed himself, 
and was about to rush to the door with Dirk, when 
it was violently thrown open and Baldwin entered. 


THE WORD OF GOD IN FRAGMENTS. Ill 

The old man was completely out of breath ; all his 
strength seemed exhausted. He sank powerless 
against the wall, and could scarce utter the words, 

“ Flee, Walter ! flee! The Noortdorp Fox — ” 

“ This way !” said a voice close by the house 
which sent a thrill of terror through Walter’s 
heart. “This way, men! Here is the heretic. 
See that you catch him alive.” 

Dirk seized Walter’s hand, and said in a whisper, 
“ Hold fast to me and follow me, for I know the 
way here.” 

To turn the lamp over so as to extinguish the 
light was the work of but a moment ; then they 
both sprang upon the bedstead. Dirk pressed upon 
a spring and quickly pushed aside a sliding-door, 
and after he had noiselessly put the door into its 
place they found their way to the attic. 

Meanwhile, the Fox entered the room, uttering a 
volley of oaths. He stumbled over the body of 
old Baldwin and fell, so that his long nose came 
into no gentle contact with the floor. 

“ Light ! light !” he yelled, in a husky voice, as 
he rose to his feet. “Light, quick, or they will 
escape us!” 

One of the men approached with a burning 
torch ; but when they looked around the room, 
no one was to be found but the unconscious Bald- 


win. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE DA WNINO OF A NEW LIGHT. 

HILE the Noortdorp Fox and the men with 



* * him were searching the room, Walter and 
Dirk climbed up into the attic along a narrow 
beam. They knew, however, that this place would 
soon be searched, and therefore they were glad to 
escape through the window by means of a stout 
rope, which they tied to one of the crossbeams. 
It was well for Walter that Dirk was with him, 
for the latter knew the way there as well by night 
as by day. They were glad to get safely down to 
the ground, and secretly commended the Fox’s stu- 
pidity in neglecting to surround the house by his 
spies. They soon put a distance between the house 
and themselves sufficient to prevent pursuit; and 
when they had reached the outskirts of the woods 
and were at the foot of the sandhills, they deter- 
mined to rest a while. 

Meanwhile, the Fox had searched every possible 
hiding-place in vain. There was no lack of oaths 
at his fruitless endeavors ; and when, at length, he 
came upon the attic and discovered the open window 


112 


THE DAWNING OF A NEW LIGHT. 113 


through which the boys had made their escape, his 
fury knew no bounds. He stamped so violently 
upon the floor that the house shook. But it availed 
him nothing, for neither his rage nor his stamping 
caused the lads to appear. 

“ That heretic has escaped !” he burst forth, 
clenching his fist. “ But as truly as the prince 
of Orange is a rebel I shall not rest till I get this 
Walter in my power, and then woe to him ! I 
shall take good care of him.” Returning to the 
room, the Fox gave vent to his wrath upon the 
aged Baldwin, who lay still unconscious ; his fol- 
lowers beat the poor man with the butt-ends of 
their muskets, and then left the house to pursue 
the fugitive, for the Fox did not know that Walter 
had so unexpectedly got an adherent, and that there 
were two heretics now. 

More than an hour had passed since Walter and 
Dirk had fled from the hospitable dwelling of the 
aged Baldwin, and they were now seated in a sand- 
pit which Nature had formed between two sandhills. 
They sat close together, for the cold night-air had 
made them chilly, and Dirk had his arm thrown 
tightly around his friend’s neck, as if he feared 
that he would slip away from him. 

“ What are you thinking of at this moment, dear 
Walter?” asked Dirk, bending his head so as to look 
under his broad-brimmed hat. 

“Of God, Dirk. I thank him that he has again 
s 


114 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


so graciously delivered me from the hands of my 
persecutor.” 

“ I wish I also could pray and give thanks, Wal- 
ter, but I know not what to say. Mr. Jasper 
Peters, the priest, has indeed taught me to pray a 
little, but that was in Latin, and so many strange 
words came in that I could not pronounce them, 
much less remember them. Shall I try to say that 
Latin prayer?” 

“ I would not just now, Dirk,” replied Walter. 
“ I believe that we should address the Lord in the 
language of the land in which we were born, and 
which we know so well that we need not guess at 
the meaning of the words. We are Holland lads, 
and it isn’t necessary for us to call upon God in 
Latin.” 

“ You are right, Walter; but if I don’t know any- 
thing to pray for, my Dutch helps me as little as 
Latin does. How shall I go to work ? how must 
I begin? what shall I say? Come, Walter!” he 
continued, tenderly pressing his hand; “help me 
along, for I would so gladly learn to pray !” 

Walter responded to his expressions of affection 
and confidence by a warm pressure of the hand, and 
said, 

“ Praying, dear Dirk, is simply asking God for 
something of which we feel the need. We thank 
the Lord when we have a lively sense of the bene- 
fits which he bestows upon us. Oh, dear Dirk, it 


THE DAWNING OF A NEW LIGHT. 115 


is such a good thing to pray often ! It is not 
necessary to look for beautiful words or to pray 
long. The Scripture says, ‘ All things whatsoever 
ye shall ask in prayer, believing, ye shall receive/ 
Now, you wish to know how you must pray and 
for what you should thank the Lord ; but if you 
just think what the Lord has done for us within 
the last few hours, I will not need to put the words 
into your mouth. But I would gladly help you ; let 
us pray together.” 

In the stillness of the night, seen by no human 
eye, but beneath the eye of the unseen God, the 
two boys took off their hats and reverently folded 
their hands while Walter prayed. 

“ Amen !” said Dirk at the close. He had paid 
deep attention. His eyes were full of tears, for the 
tone of the prayer — yes, every word — had so touched 
him that he could not control his feelings, but was 
forced to give free scope to his tears. And no 
wonder; it was all new to him. Never had he 
heard anything like this. 

A few moments passed, during which both boys 
were occupied with various thoughts. Walter was 
especially thinking of poor Baldwin. 

Dirk first broke the silence : 

“You told me last evening, dear Walter, that 
you had read a portion of the Bible so often that 
you knew much of it by heart. Would you be so 
kind as to repeat something to me from that Bible, 


116 


WALTER HARMSEN: 


that I might learn it too ? We have nothing else 
to do. No one knows we are here, and, besides, it 
is still night. Will yon?” 

Walter nodded assent, and reflected. 

“ Listen, dear Dirk,” he said a few minutes later; 
u I will repeat to you the psalm which my mother 
loved most to read. Do not take the trouble to try 
to remember the words at present. I cannot now 
see whether I have that psalm with me or not; but 
if I have, I’ll give it to you in the morning. 
Listen, then.” 

With childlike simplicity, with reverence and 
feeling, Walter repeated the one hundred and third 
psalm, beginning, “ Bless the Lord, O my soul, and 
all that is within me, bless his holy name.” When 
he had finished, he turned with joyful countenance 
toward Dirk and asked him, 

“ Is not that a beautiful psalm of praise ? Are 
not those precious words? Do you not think that 
the man who can sing such a psalm in truth and 
sincerity must be happy?” 

Dirk could reply to these questions only in the 
affirmative. 

“ But now tell me, Dirk,” continued Walter, 
“ which part of the psalm has especially touched 
you ” 

“ That,” replied Dirk, “ where it speaks of God 
not doing with us after our iniquities. "Repeat that 
again.” 


THE DAWNING OF .4 NEW LIGHT. 117 


Walter readily complied, saying, 

“ ‘ He hath not dealt with us after our sins, 
nor rewarded us according to our iniquities/ Is 
that what you mean ? Yes, indeed, that is pre- 
cious. If we sincerely repent, he forgives us our 
sins.” 

“ And do not we need to do something for it, 
Walter?” asked Dirk, who thought of all the 
penances and punishments constantly laid upon 
him by Mr. Jasper Peters. 

“ Nothing but that one thing I told you of last 
evening. We must go with our sins to Jesus, for 
he has suffered for our sins upon the cross. But 
the priest must have told you this?” 

“ I remember something of it, but I never heard 
it before as you put it to me.” 

“ Therefore pray constantly to the Lord to open 
your eyes that you may see his salvation and may 
accept the grace which he offers you. Will you 
do it?” 

“I will try, Walter. But I hope to remain with 
you to be continually reminded of it, for I am a 
wild boy.” 

“Are you really in earnest?” asked Walter. 
“ Do you wish to remain with me and accompany 
fne in my flight? This cannot be your meaning. 
You must go back to your family.” 

“ ‘ Family ’ ! ” said Dirk ; “ I have about as much 
family as lies here on my hand. Oh yes, true 


118 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


enough, I have a sister, but I see little of her ; I 
sometimes do not see her for a week at a time. I 
am an orphan ; my parents have long been dead. 
Nothing, therefore, binds me to any one place. 
Moreover, I am heartily sick of the life at Wester- 
hout, for to sit for ever with the cook in the kitchen 
and turn the spit isn’t very pleasant. I had long 
thought of saying farewell to that life, but now 
that you are come my plan is as firm as the Haar- 
lem steeple.” 

“ Well, as you like. But I fear that danger will 
part us ; perhaps some enemy is watching us even 
now.” 

“Oh, I am not afraid of one man. I have a 
good large knife, and besides that a dagger, which 
I found in the woods yesterday. Have you any 
weapon? It might come of use. Here is the dag- 
ger; I shall keep my pocket-knife: 1 can manage 
that better.” 

With these words Dirk handed the dagger to 
Walter, but scarcely had the latter seen this object 
when a beam of joy came upon his countenance at 
seeing his lost weapon returned in this unexpected 
manner. He thanked Dirk right heartily, but at 
the same time expressed the wish that he might 
never have occasion to use the weapon. This feeling 
Dirk could not altogether share. Don Frederick 
de Toledo’s plumed hat still gleamed before his 
mental vision, and the thirst for martial fame was 


THE DAWNING OF A NEW LIGHT. 119 


too deeply seated for Walter’s conversations about 
the salvation in Christ Jesus to eradicate. 

But now, chilly from the coolness of the night- 
air and weary with long sitting, the lads bethought 
themselves of leaving the sandpit. 

“ I think it would be well,” said Walter, “ if we 
should get up and go on our way till day breaks, 
for I feel quite cold” 

“That is excellent, Walter. Come! I’ll help 
a little, for your wounds must hurt you yet.” 

“Oh, not at all,” said Walter, quickly springing 
to his feet and climbing the sandhill with Dirk ; 
“your sister’s salve has done me good. But which 
direction shall we go? I do not know much about 
the way here.” 

“I do not know much more of it, Walter; but, 
fortunately, the day will soon break. Do you see 
how low the moon is ? Let us climb to the top of 
the hill; then we shall see the approaching dawn.” 

The two lads diligently climbed the sandhill ; 
and when they had reached the summit, they turned 
their eyes toward the east, where a faint streak of 
light met their gaze. 

“ It seems to me,” said Dirk after they had gone 
some distance, “ we had better keep the seashore and 
not go to Wyk. Formerly I loved to go there, for 
Mr. Jasper Peters, who likes me very much, used 
to be there frequently ; but now I don’t dare to go 
there, because you are with me. Mr. Priest would 


120 


WALTER HARM8EN. 


look very strange indeed if I told him who you 
are.” 

“But which way shall we go when we reach the 
strand ?” 

“That you must know. It is all the same to me 
where you go ; I stay by you even if you go to the 
other side of the world.” 

Walter smiled, for it pleased him to receive this 
renewed proof of attachment and confidence from 
the mouth of a lad who yet differed so widely from 
himself. Dirk was a boy reared in ignorance and 
superstition, who had no other notions of religion 
but those communicated to him by his priest; and 
that these ideas were none of the best or most fruit- 
ful our readers have already observed. Fortunately, 
he possessed a clear head, a cheerful disposition, and 
was capable of receiving good impressions; there- 
fore Walter was very confident that Dirk would 
yet come to better thoughts, to thoughts of peace, 
and he resolved as often as opportunity offered to 
make known to him the only salvation. 

“ What are you going to do, Dirk ?” asked Wal- 
ter, seeing Dirk suddenly running forward and 
clambering up a steep sandhill with great rapid- 
ity. “Where are you going?” 

“ That Dll honestly tell you, Walter,” answered 
Dirk, clambering on without looking back. “ My 
stomach begins to feel empty, and I just wanted to 
see where I was — whether I could not see a house 


THE DAWNING OF A NEW LIGHT. 121 


somewhere at which we could get something to eat 
or to drink. Come on and help me.” 

Walter clambered up after him, and after the 
lapse of a few minutes they reached the desired 
elevation, whence they enjoyed a glorious prospect. 
To the right, in the direction of Haarlem, a red- 
dish-golden glow heralded the coming sun. Before 
them lay the little village of 'Bever wyk, and beyond 
the little wood which spread itself like a green vel- 
vet border at their feet rose the Velzer dunes, whose 
sandy surfaces were colored by the sparkling light. 
Beyond them moaned the sea, and everywhere life 
began to awaken in the landscape. The whole was 
lovely to behold, the messengers of the day thus 
successively appearing; and when, presently, the 
sun appeared on the horizon, clothing each spear 
of grass with a border of gold and converting 
every dewdrop into a pearl, Walter could no longer 
contain himself, but, falling upon his knees, he ex- 
tended both arms and cried with a loud voice, 

“Bless the Lord, O my soul ! O Lord my God, 
thou art very great ; thou art clothed with honor 
and majesty. Who coverest thyself with light as 
with a garment ; who stretchest out the heavens 
like a curtain. O Lord, how manifold are thy 
works ! in wisdom hast thou made them all. 
I will sing unto the Lord as long as I live; 
I will sing praise to my God while I have my 
being.” 


122 


WALTER HARMSEN 


Dirk had listened to these beautiful verses in 
silence ; they seemed to have made a deep im- 
pression upon him, for he had reverently taken 
off his hat and thought at this moment about the 
Maker of all. He felt that he yet stood at a great 
distance from him, and there came a still, small 
voice which whispered to him, a Give him your 
heart. It is wicked, but he is gracious and merci- 
ful, and will renew it for Jesus’ sake.” He hesi- 
tated ; he knew not how he must give his heart to 
God. But when he heard the last w T ords of the 
yet kneeling Walter — “ I will sing praise to my 
God while I have my being ” — he could no longer 
resist the voice, but kneeled behind Walter. He 
had no words, but the big tears which trickled 
down his cheeks testified that the Lord had not 
in vain spoken to him through his word and by 
his works. 

Walter arose and perceived behind him the 
kneeling Dirk, who looked at him as if he would 
say, “ Leave me a moment alone with this God 
who hath created these heavens.” Walter invol- 
untarily complied, and, closing his eyes, he sent 
up a prayerful sigh to the Lord of lords. 

Dirk arose, and a blush came upon his face ; but 
it was not the glow which the fresh seabreeze had 
caused : it was rather the breath of the Spirit of 
God, which had now first blown upon him. With 
a cordiality such as Dirk had never yet experienced, 


THE DAWNING OF A NEW LIGHT. 123 


Walter took his hand and pressed it as strongly 
and affectionately as love alone can do when it 
makes a covenant for ever. The two then silently 
descended the sandhill, and ere they were aware of 
it they were upon the narrow sand-road leading 
to old Zuidwyk. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


CHA RITY CONQ UERS. 


30UT an hour later our two friends were 



-T-*- again seated close together. Dirk had thrown 
his right arm about Walter and looked eagerly at 
some papers which his friend had taken from his 
waistcoat. It seemed that Walter was reading 
aloud, for his finger followed the letters of each 
word, to Dirk’s great assistance, since he could read 
but very poorly. Suddenly they heard in the dis- 
tance some rude voices, and with the quickness of 
hunted deer they both sprang up to see what danger 
threatened them here. They listened with breath 
suspended, and no sooner did they distinguish the 
voices than, with the cry of “It is the Fox!” they 
ran back into the sandhills. 

.But it was too late. The Fox had already de- 
tected his prey, for scarcely had the boys impru- 
dently climbed a hill to see the enemy from afar 
before they saw right behind them two soldiers 
pointing their firearms at them. Dirk grasped 
his broad pocket-knife, but Walter crossed his 
arms and looked proudly upon his assailants, who 


124 


CHARITY CONQUERS. 


125 


now came upon him from all sides. He heard a 
voice behind him ; that voice caused his blood to 
course with more vehemence and his lips to curl 
with an expression of abhorrence and repugnance. 
He turned himself, and there stood before him the 
long form of the Noortdorp Fox, whose shaggy hair, 
moistened by the dew, hung over his forehead. A 
mingling of rage and rejoicing was visible upon the 
features of the persecutor, and, laying both hands 
upon Walter’s shoulders, he so pressed upon the 
lad with his gaunt fingers that the latter could 
not keep his feet, but sank to the ground. The boy, 
however, was too proud to utter the cry which pain 
would have forced from him ; on the contrary, he 
looked at the man with a reproachful glance and 
said simply, 

“ The Lord will judge one day.” 

“ Be silent, heretic !” roared the Fox, raising his 
right hand and giving Walter a blow in the face. 

This cowardly act inflamed the anger of Dirk. 
Firmly grasping the opened knife, he sprang upon 
the Fox, and would certainly have dealt him a se- 
rious wound if one of the soldiers had not sprung 
forward and caught the lad’s arm. 

The Fox contented himself with merely pulling 
Dirk’s ear and saying, 

“ Why, little boy, how brave you are ! What 
can a dog do against a lion ?” 

“Against a fox you mean, don’t you said Dirk, 


126 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


bitterly. “A lion is not so base. You vent your 
rage upon boys; that is not lion-hearted. But 
what will not a fox do?” 

Instead, however, of being offended at these 
words, the man broke into a loud laugh. He could 
not imagine how a boy dared insult him, and there- 
fore, loosing his hold upon Walter a moment, he 
said, laying his hand upon Dirk’s head, 

“Be quiet, my little man, and learn this from 
me: A fox always picks out the best chickens. 
But I have nothing to do with you ; you shall only 
get a good thrashing, and then I’ll let you go.” 

Dirk shook his head in disgust and answered, 

“Although you may not have anything to do 
with me, I have something to do with you. You 
must let my friend go ; and if you will not do that, 
then you may keep me too, for I shall never leave 
him.” 

“ But that boy is a heretic,” said the Fox, point- 
ing at Walter, “who despises our holy Church ; he 
is a rebel rising up against our count, and wants 
nothing less than our ruin.” 

“ If you call him a heretic,” said Dirk, passion- 
ately, “and if all heretics are like him, then I de- 
clare myself to be one too.” 

The eyes of the Fox shot flame at hearing these 
words, and had it been possible he would gladly 
have destroyed Dirk by a look. He lifted his hand 
threateningly, but the boy mocked at the threat. 


V 


CHARITY CONQUERS . 127 

At this moment there was heard near by the 
barking of a dog. A beam of hope entered Wal- 
ter’s heart. He listened sharply. The barking 
became louder. The Fox was just on the point 
of punishing Dirk for his rashness, when a cry 
from Walter caused him to desist. 

“ Pol, Pol ! here!” cried Walter, exultingly, see- 
ing his uncle Ruikhaver’s poodle running at full 
speed through the sand. 

The dog stopped suddenly, as if he recognized 
the voice of an old friend ; and when Walter called 
again, Pol seemed to perceive his master’s nephew, 
for with a loud bark the dog sped up the sandhill 
where friend and foe awaited him. 

Walter increased his calls the nearer the dog 
came. 

“ Will you be silent, young rebel?” said the Fox, 
rudely pushing the lad aside . — u Men,” he con- 
tinued, turning to his five companions — “ men, 
shoot the dog down. He is also a rebel ; at least, 
he belongs to a heretic. It is Ruikhaver’s dog.” 

The Spaniards had already pointed their weapons 
at the dog and were about to fire, when the sound 
of the dreaded rebel’s name sent such a tremor 
through their frames that they missed their aim. 
Pol was not shot, but stood still for a moment; 
perhaps the bullets had so closely whistled by him 
that their sound had stunned him. He soon sprang 
forward, however. The Spaniards again loaded 


128 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


their muskets, but before they had finished this 
they perceived behind them, in a turn of the 
sandhills, ten or twelve Holland soldiers march- 
ing upon them, their helmets and arms glisten- 
ing brightly in the beams of the morning sun. 

Before the Fox and his friends had time to 
recover from the consternation which this sight had 
caused, they heard the powerful voice of Ruikhaver 
calling to his men, 

"Forward! there are our enemies. Fear not; 
we battle for a good cause. Long live the prince 

And with the cry “ Long live the prince !” the 
Dutch soldiers rushed up the hill. 

But no sooner did the five Spaniards perceive this 
man than with all the swiftness which fear could 
lend they ran from the spot and left the Fox 
alone with his prey. He hesitated and thought 
what he had better do. Should he make use of 
his weapon and defend himself to the last? But 
this would not benefit him, as the odds were too 
great against him. Should he take to flight? But 
who would warrant him that the enemies’ bullets 
would not reach him ? He concluded, however, to 
do the latter ; for he knew that if he could get 
time to hide behind the nearest hill he would then 
be — at least, for the moment — out of danger. All 
this he deliberated with the quickness of thought, 
and, no longer hesitating, he threw down the fire- 
arm, as this might impede him in his flight, and 


CHARITY CONQUERS. 


129 


was about to leave the spot with one bound, when 
two unexpected circumstances prevented him. On 
one hand he saw the shaggy Pol run upon him 
angrily, and on the other Dirk, with a quickness 
and dexterity characteristic of him, threw himself 
upon him and seized a leg, so that the man fell at 
his full length into the sand. Quickly he rose 
from the ground, but now Pol flew at the traitor, 
and he would doubtless have bitten him severely 
if Walter’s commanding voice had not interfered. 
The dog released the villain and sprang toward (he 
boy, who kindly welcomed him at this critical 
moment. 

Ruikhaver and his men had meanwhile arrived 
at the spot ; and when the Noortdorp Fox beheld 
the dreaded man who was acquainted with the 
treachery committed against Walter’s grandfather, 
he trembled like an aspen-leaf, knowing well that 
his fate would not be an enviable one. 

“So, villain!” said Ruikhaver, stepping up to 
the Fox; “at last, then, I have succeeded in get- 
ting you into my power ? For many days past I 
had intended to look you up, but other occupations 
prevented me. Tell me, spy, what was your plan 
just now?” 

The Fox was about to invent a lie, but knew that 
this could not save him, as the boys would imme- 
diately expose him. He assumed a most innocent 
expression of face to awaken his assailant’s pity. 


130 


WALTER HARMSEK 


But Ruikhaver was not the man to be so deceived ; 
he looked sternly at him, again calling out to him, 

“Tell me quickly, you rascal, bow you came 
here and what intentions you had with these lads. 
I was this night in your village of Noortdorp in 
order to make your acquaintance, but you were not 
there ; so I thought you were out on some piece of 
treachery. Say on, but lie not. It makes no mat- 
ter to me, but your last hour has come, and I say 
this that you may not increase the number of your 
sins. Speak !” 

But the Fox could not muster courage. Fear 
closed his mouth. 

“ Hallo, Bertels !” cried Ruikhaver, beckoning 
one of his men ; “give that fellow a push in the 
ribs. He will not speak, but he must, as truly as 
my goods and my blood are devoted to our dear 
Holland.” 

The soldier approached, and was about to bring 
the butt-end of his musket into no soft contact with 
the Fox, when Walter, who as soon as his uncle 
came had sprung forward to meet him, threw 
himself between the Fox and the soldier, saying, 

“ Uncle, I pray you, do it not !” 

“ Not do this ? Why not ?” asked the latter, 
frowning severely. “ That villain has deserved a 
thousand such blows. — Go on, Bertels,” continued 
Ruikhaver, motioning the soldier. 

“But perhaps the man wishes to comply with 


CHARITY CONQUERS. 


131 


your request and will speak,” said Walter to Ruik- 
haver, holding the soldier’s firearm with both 
hands. 

u But he does not do it ; you see he keeps his 
mouth closed. — Speak, villain ! what was your plan 
with these boys ?” 

Bertels still held the musket in a threatening 
manner, and the Fox, seeing that he could not do 
else, said stammeringly, 

“ I was commanded to conduct this lad ” — point- 
ing to Walter — “ to the castle at Cleef, the headquar- 
ters of Don Frederick.” 

" And who gave you this order?” 

“ I — I — Don — I — ” stammered the Fox, 
who could not so quickly invent another lie. 

“ I will tell you, liar !” said Ruikhaver. “ It 
was not Don Frederick, who very likely does not 
even know that this boy is in existence, but your 
base, traitorous, wicked, disloyal heart. You are 
no better than a Judas. Your benefactors, whose 
bread you ate, you have delivered into the execu- 
tioner’s hands ; people who never did you any harm 
you have betrayed for vile gain or for the priests’ 
favor. Therefore, traitor, a creature like you taints 
by his breath this Holland atmosphere; you are not 
worthy being called a human being; and the sooner 
you get the noose about your neck the better for us, 
who are ashamed to live with such a rascal on the 
earth. — Men, bind him and hang him in the woods 


132 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


yonder. I give him five minutes to prepare him- 
self to meet his Judge above. Do your duty, men !” 

Bertels rubbed his hands with satisfaction, while 
he moistened his moustache with his under lip. 

“So, captain !” he said to Ruikhaver; “that’s a 
good word spoken. Methinks we had better bind 
the fellow here and let him make his testament in 
the woods.” 

“ Good !” answered Ruikhaver. “ Deal with him 
as traitors and spies are dealt with. I leave him to 
you and will go a few paces away from here, for 
the sight of the wretched villain I can endure no 
longer. Only be careful to let him have a few 
minutes’ time to commend his soul to God.” 

Ruikhaver descended the hill, followed by Wal- 
ter and Dirk, while Pol ran sportively forward. 
Dirk had thrown the spy’s firearm upon his shoul- 
der. When the three had reached the foot of the 
sandhill, they sat down near a blackberry-bush. 
Dirk occupied himself with the musket and ex- 
amined it all over, while Walter seated himself 
by his uncle. 

“Why are you so quiet, Walter?” asked Ruik- 
haver, who noticed that his nephew had not spoken 
a word. “ You look at me every little while; have 
you anything to say to me? Out with it, then; you 
know I cannot bear dallying. What is there on 
your mind ? Do you want anything of me that 
you dare not speak of?” 


CHARITY CONQUERS. 


133 


“ That is just it, uncle,” answered Walter, who 
gained courage at these words. “Yes, uncle, I have 
something to tell you — or, rather, to ask you.” 

“ And what is it ?” 

“ Whether you read the Bible much ?” 

Ruikhaver opened his eyes wide at hearing this 
question, which he had expected least of all at this 
moment. He could, therefore, give no straightfor- 
ward answer to this, so said, 

“ What makes you ask this question, Walter?” 

“ I will tell you that presently, uncle ; but first 
be so kind as to answer my question.” 

“ Whether I read the Bible much ?” 

“ Exactly.” 

“I must acknowledge that I have neglected it 
very greatly these last days. You know, dear 
Walter, that I liked it very much and have often 
spent a blessed hour in reading it with your father, 
but now I scarcely get time for it.” 

“ I am very sorry, dear uncle.” 

“ And why are you so very sorry ?” 

“Because otherwise you would have thought a 
while ago about a certain saying of the Lord 
Jesus.” 

“ And what is that saying ?” 

“‘But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, 
neither will your heavenly Father forgive your 
trespasses/ ” 

“ That is very good, Walter. But who says that 


j; 


134 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


I do not forgive that villain ? I forgive him with 
all my heart everything he has done to me, but 
justice must have its course; such deeds as he 
commits, must be punished. I can, therefore, 
indeed forgive him his misdeeds, but will at the 
same time take care that he shall not again commit 
such wickedness. It seems to me the Lord himself 
in heaven himself must take vengeance upon such 
a man.” 

“ There ! now you have spoken my thoughts, dear 
uncle,” said Walter, heartily pressing Ruikhaver’s 
arm. “ These last words of yours indicate that you 
are on the point of acting like a Christian. You 
say that the Lord himself must take vengeance 
upon such a man ; this the Lord will do when it is 
the Lord’s time. I believe, uncle, that you should 
earnestly admonish this man, that you should warn 
him of the judgment of God, that you should speak 
words of peace to him ; but I do not believe, accord- 
ing to God’s word, that you may put him to death.” 

Ruikhaver looked at the boy for a moment or 
two : 

“ But, Walter, I recollect having often read in 
the same word of God that David, for instance, 
called down all the punishments of God upon his 
enemies. If, therefore, he had forgiven them their 
trespasses, he needed not to have called down God’s 
punishments upon them.” 

“That is true, uncle,” said Walter, “but you 


CHARITY CONQUERS. 


135 


confuse matters. David prayed for God’s punish- 
ment, not upon his personal enemies, but the 
Lord’s enemies; my father often told me this. 
This man is your personal enemy, he has done 
me and my relatives much evil, but I do not know 
that we may certainly say that he is the Lord’s 
enemy. Perhaps he thinks that he is striving for 
the glory of the Lord when he is hurting us.” 

Ruikhaver seemed to have been brought to re- 
flection by Walter’s words; at least, he remained 
sunk in deep thought for some time. Then he 
arose and said to Walter, 

“ And what would you have me do with the 
Fox ?” 

“Admonish him, direct him to God’s word, make 
it known to him, hold up to him the unreason- 
ableness of his conduct, then let him go.” 

“‘Let him go’!” cried Ruikhaver. “Without 
submitting him to the least punishment?” 

“ Yes, uncle, for it seems to me that when he sees 
how Christian-like you treat him he will thereby be 
brought to other and better thoughts. He will then 
get a good opinion of the adherents of the Refor- 
mation, and you will heap coals of fire upon his 
head.” 

“Walter,” said Ruikhaver, “you are better than 
I am ; you are right. Come ! let us go to him and 
announce his freedom.” 

How happy and glad Walter was ! In a trans- 


136 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


port of joy he threw himself upon his uncle’s 
breast, to the great astonishment of Dirk, who as 
yet understood nothing of all this. 

All three returned to the hill where Bertels and 
the other men were. The Fox was in the midst of 
them ; he trembled and shuddered, for the thought 
of death was fearful to him. When he observed 
the gladdened, merciful face of Walter, he knew 
that something favorable to him had been resolved 
upon ; his countenance brightened, and he kept his 
eyes immovably fixed upon Ruikhaver. 

The captain turned to Bertels and called out to 
him, 

“ Bertels, loose that rascal.” 

“ Loose him, captain ?” asked the astonished 
soldier. “ Loose him? Such a villain?” 

“You understand Dutch, do you not, Bertels? 
You know well that I do not like being contra- 
dicted, therefore loose the man. After that he 
may go free.” 

Bertels obeyed, grumbling like a wolf driven 
from its prey back into its hole. By the aid of 
the remaining soldiers the Fox was soon freed 
from his bends. 

Meanwhile, Ruikhaver and Walter had stepped 
a little aside, for the honest Hollander could not 
endure the man’s face, notwithstanding he had been 
moved to forgiveness by Walter. A few moments 
later a cry of pain struck his ear. He looked 


CHARITY CONQUERS. 137 

around and saw the Fox holding his hand to his 
head. 

“What has happened to the rascal, Bertels ?” 
asked Ruikhaver. 

The countenance of the man addressed betokened 
hatred and vindictiveness. He held his sabre in 
his hand and said, 

“ I am sorry, Sir Captain, that I could not 
restrain myself. This wretch has done so much 
evil that if I should tell you all you would cer- 
tainly not give him his liberty. I had made a 
firm resolution to repay him his rascalities, even if 
it were at the expense of my own life.” 

“ And what is it that you have done to him ?” 
asked Walter. 

“ Look in the sand ; there lies the Fox’s ear. I 
cut it off and told him that he who will not hear 
must feel.” 

Ruikhaver turned. He thought it was better 
not to rebuke Bertels, for the Fox had suffered but a 
slight punishment in view of all that he deserved ; 
so, in spite of Walter’s compassion, he closed his 
ears to the pitiful cries which pain forced from 
the Fox. He approached the villain and, regard- 
ing him with a look of indignation, said, 

“You have heard that I Avish to give you your 
freedom. Think not I do this of my own accord ; 
for if I had acted upon my own impulse, you would 
now be hanging on some limb. For your freedom 


138 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


you may thank this lad whom you have so fre- 
quently persecuted.” 

The Fox still held his hand to his ear, and 
wished to speak some words of thanks. 

“ Be silent, villain!” Ruikhaver continued; “I 
cannot endure your words. Get yourself away 
out of my sight, and learn this time that those whom 
you persecute practice the lessons of the gospel bet- 
ter than you, who think you serve God thereby. 
Away out of my sight ! But count on this : should 
I ever get you into my hands again and hear that 
you are still the same persecutor of the adherents 
of the Reformation, be sure that you shall not get 
off so easily. Depart !” 

The soldiers made room to let the Fox pass, and 
he ran down the sandhill without looking back and 
still holding his hand to his head. 


CHAPTER IX. 


DIRK CHOOSES A PROFESSION. 

T HE reader will be curious to know how Ruik- 
haver came to appear so unexpectedly, and in 
such good season for delivering Walter. 

A short time after Haarlem had been taken by 
the Spaniards, the prince of Orange, who could 
easily surmise that Don Frederick de Toledo would 
soon besiege Alkmaar, had sent, as we saw in a pre- 
vious chapter, Ruikhaver and other officers with 
troops to supply the town as much as possible 
with soldiery. For different reasons, Ruikhaver was 
forced to remain some time at Egmond and Heilo, 
and made use of this opportunity to march now and 
then through the sandhills with a small band of 
men to reconnoitre the movements of the enemy. 

These circumstances Ruikhaver had already ex- 
plained to Walter. It may be imagined with how 
much interest the lad had learned this, and how 
grateful he was for having been saved from such 
great danger. Dirk thought less about that, for, in 
spite of all that Walter had spoken to him, the 


140 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


plumed hat of Don Frederick still hung too daz- 
zlingly before his eyes for him to forget so speedily 
his thirst for fame. He marched to and fro with 
the Fox’s musket on his shoulder, although he could 
with difficulty handle the heavy weapon. He took 
little part, also, in the conversation between Walter 
and his uncle, but kept himself in the neighborhood 
of the soldiers and examined their accoutrements. 
Meanwhile, Ruikhaver had called his men together 
and given them his orders. The whole band took 
the road to Castricum along the footpath, Ruikhaver 
and Walter bringing up the rear. 

“ Dear uncle,” said Walter, a few moments later, 
“have you heard nothing about my father or grand- 
father ?” 

“Of your grandfather, nothing. A few days 
ago I learned from some deserters that your grand- 
father’s house is burned to the ground.” 

Walter drew a deep sigh ; it gave him great pain 
to think that the dwelling wherein he had spent 
many an hour in joy or sorrow was now destroyed 
in such a cruel manner. He repressed the rising 
tears, however, and repeated the inquiry about his 
father. 

“ I am sorry I can tell you but little about your 
father. I know this, however — that he is staying 
somewhere in the vicinity of Leyden.” 

“ Near Leyden ?” asked Walter, astonished. “ It 
is not true, then, that my father is at Delft?” 


DIRK CHOOSES A PROFESSION. 


141 


“ I think not; I have been informed that your 
father is at present in the neighborhood of Boek- 
horst and Noordwykerhout. He was, indeed, for a 
while with the prince, after his escape from the cas- 
tle of Westerhout, but did not stay there long, and 
he would certainly have been here again long ago 
if the siege of Haarlem had not prevented him.” 

“ But what is my father doing there ?” 

“ You may readily guess, Walter,” replied Ruik- 
haver. “ You know your father better than I, and 
know, therefore, very well that it is his greatest 
desire to preach the gospel. He is exposed, how- 
ever, to great persecutions, for the priests excite the 
peasantry against him. Neither are the town-au- 
thorities disposed to permit the public preaching of 
the adherents of the Reformation, and especially at 
present will it be unsafe in those regions, since Don 
Frederick has free access to Leyden. I shall 
therefore be greatly surprised if we do not soon 
hear that Don Frederick has besieged Leyden, 
even as he is about to lay siege to Alkmaar.” 

“ Can you not tell me precisely where my father 
is, dear uncle?” 

“ I really cannot tell you exactly, but I would 
not be surprised if he were at Boekhorst.” 

“But how shall I go to look for him there? 
How far is Noordwyk from here ?” 

“ Oh, it is not far if you go along the strand — 
or, rather, across the sandhills skirting the sea- 


142 


WALTER IIA RMS EN. 


shore, which I would advise you to do to avoid 
all danger. You can easily get there in about 
seven hours.” 

“But would you advise me to go there, uncle? 
Suppose my father has departed again ; with whom 
would I find shelter ? I have now been a fugitive 
among the sandhills for some days ; I have nothing 
to eat or drink ; I have no roof but the open sky. 
But fie !” he continued ; “ how ungrateful I am ! for 
I murmur against God, who has been so merciful — ” 

The lad was interrupted in his remarks by an 
exclamation from Dirk, who ran up to Walter at 
full speed. 

“ What is the matter, Dirk ?” 

“Yonder come Grada and four men who are 
carrying some one on a litter. What can that 
mean? I hope the cook isn’t there, for he must 
know that I took the cakes.” 

“ I do not believe the cook thinks about the 
cakes: it is only the voice of your conscience.” 

Ruikhaver had meanwhile gone to the front to 
see whether they were friends or foes who were 
approaching. He was soon convinced, however, 
that there was nothing to fear ; for when the two 
parties met, he noticed that the new-comers were 
simply some people who carried an old man upon a 
litter. But who can describe the surprise of Walter 
and Dirk when in the old man they recognized none 
other than Baldwin ? At Walter’s request, Ruik- 


DIRK CHOOSES A PROFESSION. 


143 


haver halted his men, and then, turning to Bald- 
win, Walter embraced the aged man and kissed 
him as if he had been his father, while Dirk 
talked with Grada, who told him in few words 
what had happened since their flight. 

The aged Baldwin could scarcely speak, and 
with difficulty Walter learned the following from 
his incoherent words: No one at the castle had 
heard anything of what had taken place that 
night in Baldwin’s dwelling, as it stood at some 
distance from the castle; so, when Grada, at the 
break of day, went to the house to see how Walter 
was doing, she was surprised to find the door open. 
She entered, and found the aged Baldwin unable to 
move ; after she had refreshed him with some water 
she learned from him what had happened during 
the night. The Spanish soldiers, perhaps from spite 
at not finding their prey, had vented their rage 
upon the aged man, and had beaten him with the 
butt-end of their muskets upon his head, body and 
limbs. The good old man spoke with difficulty and 
suffered much pain. Grada had subsequently gone 
to the castle to get help, which she readily found, 
as all loved Father Baldwin for his benevolence 
and faithfulness. Immediately some had offered 
themselves to bear the seriously-wounded man on 
a litter to Beverwyk, where the nearest surgeon 
lived. To Dirk’s great relief, the cook had re- 
mained behind, as he had to prepare Lady Wester- 


144 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


hout’s breakfast. Baldwin’s injuries, however, 
were of such a nature that it was feared he could 
not endure them much longer. 

“And have you suffered all this, dear Father 
Baldwin ?” said Walter, the tears trickling down 
his cheeks. “ Oh, I have thought so much about 
you! How are you? Have you much pain?” 

The old man could not answer ; he closed his eyes. 

“ Do you not know me ?” said Walter, sadly. 
“ Do you not know Walter, the son of — ” He 
was about to speak his father’s name, but he be- 
thought himself that he was not alone here. 

Baldwin made a slight movement with his head, 
as if to indicate that he recognized him. A feeble 
smile played about the mutilated mouth ; and when 
he softly opened his eyes, Walter again saw that 
kindly, friendly look which had more than once so 
much delighted him. He made a motion with his 
left arm, and took great pains to signify to Walter 
that he wished to tell him something; but his voice 
was so weak that he could scarcely raise it to an 
audible sound. 

At length Walter seemed to understand his desire, 
and, placing his ear close to old man’s mouth, he 
asked him, 

“Do you wish to tell me something?” 

“ Yes,” answered the old man, in broken tones — 
“yes. I — feel that — my last hour — has come. I 
die.” 


DIRK CHOOSES A PROFESSION. 


145 


Walter was deeply affected, for during the few 
hours he had spent with him he had learned to love 
this aged man so warmly that he could not reconcile 
himself to the thought of parting with him for ever 
— at least, in this world. 

Baldwin pressed his hand, as if to give him to 
understand that he wished to say something more ; 
and when Walter had placed his ear to his mouth, 
Baldwin continued, 

“ Walter, I die, but know that I live, for I be- 
lieve in the Lord Jesus, who hath said, ‘ He that 
believeth in me hath everlasting life.’ And now he 
is nigh and comforts my soul ; he hath forgiven me 
all.” Pain seemed to gain the mastery, for his 
countenance assumed an expression of suffering. 

Ruikhaver, Grada and Dirk now gathered about 
the sufferer, whose presentiment had not deceived 
him. The dying man held Walter’s hand, whilst 
Grada kneeled in the sand and pressed a silver cru- 
cifix into Baldwin’s left hand. Poor Grada in her 
simplicity thought that the silver crucifix would be 
of great benefit were it but near him. 

Walter had also kneeled — partly because the 
position of the litter required it, partly influenced 
by reverence inspired by the sight of one dying. 
He wiped the tears from his cheeks, and, bending 
over the dying man once more, he heard him say, 

u I — believe. Amen !” 

These were Father Baldwin’s last words ; death 
10 


146 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


had delivered him from all earthly pains. The 
angels of heaven had come to carry his soul to 
better lands, there to be robed in the garments of 
Christ’s righteousness, and thus fitted to take part 
in that salvation which awaits the believer. 

All were affected by this incident and stood with 
uncovered heads around the body of the man whose 
last breath had been a song of gladness at which 
the angels in heaven rejoice. 

A few moments later the men who had carried 
Baldwin again lifted the litter and took the direction 
of the castle, followed by Ruikhaver and his men, 
together with Walter, Dirk and Grada. About an 
hour afterward Ruikhaver halted his men, and, 
turning to Walter, said, 

“ This is not my way ; I continue westward and 
follow the road among the sandhills. I must there- 
fore take leave.” 

“ ‘ Take leave ’ ? ” asked Walter. “ Of me ? Do 
I not go with you, then ?” 

“No, Walter; I have considered, as we went, 
what was best for you. You cannot follow me, as 
I do not know what may befall me. In a few days 
I expect to see the enemy before Alkmaar, to which 
I am now going, and which I shall use every en- 
deavor to enter; you cannot, therefore, go with me. 
Your life would be in great danger there. More- 
over, you long to see your father, whose assistance, 
counsel and instruction you still so much need. Lis- 


DIRK CHOOSES A PROFESSION. 


147 


ten to what I shall propose. I will send two of 
my soldiers with you as far as Wyk-upon-the-Sea ; 
then you go in a southerly direction, and you will 
find some fishermen or other persons who can tell 
you the way when you are at a loss. Ask for 
Boekhorst ; and when you have arrived there, ask 
for the county-seat of Kleinofhem. There you will 
find some one who can give you information about 
your father.” 

Walter answered not; he simply cast a glance 
heavenward, as much as to say, “ I know who will 
guide me.” 

Just then, Dirk, who had in the mean time been 
talking with Grada, came near; he learned with 
great surprise that Walter was on the point of leav- 
ing this neighborhood. Was it any wonder that he 
who loved his friend so much said to him in a tone 
of despair, 

“Are you going away, and without me?” 

Walter was about to answer, but Ruikhaver in- 
terrupted him and said to Dirk, 

“ I believe it is better for Walter to go alone. 
He must go back to his father, while you must 
remain with your sister.” 

“With Grada?” he cried. “She is the whole 
day in the castle. And say nothing to me about 
the cook. I do not want to stand at the spit ; I 
am half cooked now. No ; even though Mr. Priest 
himself came, I would not go back.” 


148 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“ But, Dirk,” said Grada, “ how can you talk so ? 
Do you not love me, then, that you do not want to 
remain with me?” 

“ 1 love you well enough, but — ” 

“ Well, what do you mean ?” asked Ruikhaver. 

“ With your permission, Sir Captain,” said Ber- 
tels, who had approached, “ I believe I know what 
that boy has in his head. Little Gys, who is busy 
there twirling his moustachios, told me just now 
that this boy would like nothing better than to 
go with us” 

A smile beamed upon Dirk’s countenance; never- 
theless, he held his glance fixed upon Walter, as if 
he would say, “ Say but one word, and I will think 
of it no more.” Walter understood this, and, put- 
ting an arm around Dirk, he whispered to him, 

“ Would you fight against the same persons 
against whom Don Frederick de Toledo takes 
the field?” 

“ By no means, Walter,” answered Dirk. “ If 
ever I use the sword, it will be against those who 
call a burning lamp darkness; that conversation 
about the lamp I shall never forget. And, though 
Mr. Jasper Peters should threaten me with hell and 
purgatory, I would just say, ‘Mr. Priest, with your 
leave, I am thinking of a lamp.’ ” 

“Dear Dirk,” said Walter, tenderly embracing 
him, “ may the word of the Lord ever be the lamp 
which will light all your paths!” 


DIRK CHOOSES A PROFESSION. 


149 


“I hope so, Walter; I shall do my best to think 
of it.” 

Meanwhile, the bearers had again taken up 
their burden, and now went on. Grada approached 
her brother ; she took him by the arm, whispering 
to him, 

“ Come ! go with us.” 

“ Grada, I cannot think of it. What could I do 
yonder? I have quite different plans in my head. 
I will presently tell you what I want to do — at 
least, if the captain will let me.” 

“ Well, let us hear, my man,” said Ruikhaver, 
while Bertels and the other soldiers gathered about 
him. 

“ First of all, it is my wish to go with Walter as 
far as I can — at least, as far as the two soldiers go. 
Then I take leave of him, and after that go with 
the soldiers to Heilo or Egmond.” 

“ Bravo ! bravo 1” cried Bertels and little Gys. 

Ruikhaver was too thorough a soldier to oppose 
this plan. He looked attentively at Dirk ; and 
when he saw that he was a fine boy of whom 
something might be made, he tapped him on the 
shoulder, saying, 

“ I accept your proposal, but behave is the word.” 

“ I know it, captain ; I learned that behind the 
spit. But that’s all gone by now. Ah ! I can think 
of it with joy. To become a soldier ! Will I soon 
get a hat with plumes ?” 


150 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


Ruikhaver and his men laughed outright at this 
childlike question. 

Dirk saw nothing to laugh at, and asked, 

“ This is not impossible, is it ?” 

“ No, Dirk,” answered Ruikhaver ; “ it simply 
depends upon your doing your best. Be bold and 
active. ‘ For the Fatherland and the Prince !’ that 
is our motto. — Is it not so, men ?” asked Ruikhaver. 

“ Long live the prince ! Long live the prince !” 
shouted the soldiers, and waved their muskets over 
their heads. 

“ And now, Walter,” said Ruikhaver, turning to 
his nephew, “ the Lord reward your piety and pros- 
per you ; I hope you will soon attain your desired 
end. If you see your father, give him my cordial 
greetings and tell him I often think of him. Fare- 
well, my boy. God bless you and keep you !” 

Walter warmly pressed the offered hand ; he, 
too, commended Uncle Ruikhaver to the Lord’s 
keeping. 

“Now, Grada,” said Dirk, kissing her on the 
cheek, “ we shall soon see each other again. Greet 
Mr. Jasper Peters, the priest.” 

“ But if he knows what you intend to do, he may 
threaten you with great punishment.” 

“ Hear me, Grada,” answered Dirk : “ tell Mr. Jas- 
per Peters, if he asks after me, that I don’t believe 
any of his teachings ; I know much better now.” 

Grada shook her head dubiously and was about 


DIRK CHOOSES A PROFESSION. 


151 


to give him a sisterly admonition, when Ruikhaver 
impatiently stepped between them, saying, 

“Come! an end must come to this. — You, Ber- 
tels, and you, Gys, go with these lads ; I will wait 
for you at Heilo. — Come on, men ! Right about 
face, forward, march! — Farewell, Walter!” 


CHAPTER X. 

THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 

D IRK and the soldiers had disappeared behind 
the sandhills, and still Walter stood where he 
had taken leave of them. At first he had followed 
them with his eyes as long as the dunes permitted 
him ; but when he saw nothing more than the blue 
sky and the yellow sand, he followed them in 
thought to the different places in which he had 
spent the last few days. When he compared those 
days with this hour, he could not but acknowledge 
that the Lord had preserved him. True, he felt 
that he was alone, but, raising his eyes heaven- 
ward and observing the friendly sunlight, it seemed 
to him as if at that moment he was more than ever 
near unto that almighty One whose right hand had 
so graciously led him. 

“ Alone, and yet not alone,” he said, softly. 
“ What a mingling of sadness and joy ! To be 
alone, and nevertheless to know there is One who 
always sees us ! What a sense of safety this 
thought gives ! I can be sure in the midst of 

152 


THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 


153 


persecutions that not a hair can fall from my head 
without the will of Him whose all-seeing eye re- 
gards me. And not me alone. Oh no; that eye 
also beholds my dear father. He too is not alone.” 

For some time he occupied himself with these 
thoughts, but suddenly, as if recollecting something 
he had long forgotten, he put his hand into his 
bosom. A smile played about his mouth when 
he felt what he sought, and, thrusting his hand 
more deeply into his waistcoat, he drew out some 
papers rolled together and folded up. They were 
the leaves torn from his grandfather’s Bible. With 
joy he held this remnant, for these same leaves gave 
him the visible proof that the Lord was also in this 
his solitude. He unfolded one paper after another 
and arranged the leaves as far as possible in their 
order ; next he took a leaf and read aloud the tenth 
chapter of John. When he read the twenty-seventh 
and twenty-eighth verses, the tears came into his 
eyes ; for, although he had often heard these words 
before, they seemed new to him now. Therefore he 
reread the words, “ My sheep hear my voice, and I 
know them, and they follow me, and I give unto 
them eternal life; and they shall never perish, 
neither shall any man pluck them out of my 
hand.” 

“ What a comfort it is to me to have the convic- 
tion that, however much the wolf may threaten, no 
harm can befall me, for the good Shepherd leads 


154 


WALTER HARMSEN . 


the way with his staff! and whosoever follows him 
is out of danger.” 

Walter fell once more into a deep reverie, from 
which he did not awake until he heard the cries of 
some sea-mews overhead, which reminded him that 
he was near the seashore and not in the peaceful 
parental home where he had often listened to his 
father’s conversations about the eternal life. This 
also reminded him that it was high time for him to 
arise and continue his journey ; it would be seven 
hours yet before he could reach the place where his 
father was to be found. Praying the Lord that he 
would preserve him from all danger and lead him 
safely to his father’s embrace, he concealed his 
papers in their usual place and took a southerly 
direction, keeping as much as possible toward the 
sea. 

It was now about one o’clock, and the heat was 
very great ; so that the climbing of the sandhills 
which form the coast of Holland became quite dis- 
agreeable. Nevertheless, Walter kept up his cour- 
age, for he knew that he could not spend this night 
among the sandhills, as hunger and thirst would 
compel him to seek some dwelling-place; so he 
clambered up one sandhill and down another, and 
soon perceived the little village of Zandvoort 
between the hills. He dared not venture to ap- 
proach the village from the sea side, neither did 
he wish to stop in the place; for it might be that 


THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 


155 


a division of Spanish soldiers lay quartered there 
or that in some way the place might be unsafe for 
him. Therefore, in spite of the burning thirst which 
troubled him, he resolved to go straight across the 
sandhills and past the village, in the hope of reach- 
ing some blackberry-bushes where he might slake 
his thirst with the berries. How frequently had 
he done this formerly ! and how little had he thought 
then that at some time, as a fugitive, he would look 
longingly for such a bush ! He went a little east- 
ward into the hills, to remain as much as possible 
among the highest dunes, and thus be safer. Ere 
long he reached a road which wound among the 
sandhills to the village, and, quickly crossing this 
road, he disappeared again among the hills. For 
more than half an hour he gave himself no rest, but 
went from hill to hill, up and down, ever careful 
not to lose his course, but guiding it by the position 
of the sun. At last, having reached a little bush, 
he sat down under the shade of some young birches 
and with eager eye sought for some blackberries. 
He found few, for it was not quite the time for the 
berries, but the great heat of the last few days had 
ripened some before their time, and he was enabled 
to refresh himself with the juicy fruit. 

Having remained here about half an hour, he 
felt much strengthened by the rest, and arose with 
the firm resolve to continue the journey without 
stopping again. He kept along the dunes border- 


156 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


ing on the beach, to be sure not to go astray. Far 
in the distance, on the greenish-blue North Sea, he 
saw a small vessel here and there. Gladly would 
he have fulfilled the desire to cool himself in the 
surf or to let his feet be washed by the playful 
waves, but he could not afford the time. His 
longing to be under shelter hurried him constant- 
ly onward, though he cast more than one glance in 
the direction of the beautiful and swelling surface 
of the sea. It seemed that at present his flight was 
not to be interfered with. No Noortdorp Fox was 
seen ; no Spanish soldier pursued him : he remained 
alone with his God, who had heard his prayer. 

The evening began to fall and the sun had hid- 
den its face beneath the horizon of the watery plain 
when Walter caught sight of the fertile district of 
Langevelt and Noordwykerhout. He hesitated for 
some time what to do. Should he first wait for 
night, and then make use of the falling darkness to 
creep unobserved into some dwelling ? Or hajl he 
better enter the very first house that he saw in the 
distance ? What should he do there ? What should 
he ask? Were they friends or enemies? Were 
they persecutors or adherents of the Reformation ? 
All these questions rose within his mind, and he 
knew not what to do. If, he reasoned with him- 
self — if he waited for night, he would be abso- 
lutely unable to find the way. This region was 
wholly unknown to him. Here and there he per- 


THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 


157 


ceived between the trees the blue slate roof of some 
farmhouse or the thatched top of some day-laborer’s 
hovel. After spending some time in deliberating, 
he resolved at last to go on, leaning upon the Lord 
for help. He cautiously slid from tree to tree in 
the forest which he entered after leaving the sand- 
hills, and soon he observed between the oak trees 
the farmhouse which he had seen from the summit 
of the dune. 

How still and sombre it was here ! No human 
voice was heard, nor even the deep baying of the 
watchdog ; only the cooing of the forest-pigeons or 
the song of the finch was heard from time to time. 
This made no cheering impression upon Walter, 
who kept his eyes fixed upon the house and had not 
yet by any means abandoned the plan of entering 
it in some way. Again he advanced a few steps, 
forced his way through a small bush of young 
timber, and ere long stood in front of the house. 
He saw no one. The house seemed to be empty 
and uninhabited ; and had it not been for several 
objects which he observed intended for the daily 
uses of a farm, he would have thought that the 
people had deserted the place. At length he per- 
ceived that he was not alone here, for he heard the 
whispering voices of two men close by him. He 
listened sharply to catch some words, but he did 
not succeed in this; for the voices went on, and 
soon he heard no more. But an indescribable horror 


158 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


took hold of him ; his imagination pictured things 
of which before he had not the remotest suspicion. 
He fancied himself surrounded by a multitude of 
people who were laying some evil plot; perhaps 
they were conspirators who had chosen this house 
as the point of secret rendezvous. Such thoughts 
as these flashed through his mind ; and when, by 
and by, whispering voices were again heard, fear 
lent wings to his feet. He rushed from the bush 
straight toward the dwelling, to see whether he 
could find a hiding-place there. 

Meantime, it had grown altogether dark, and 
Walter, as he ran, stumbled over some agricultural 
implements. He fell with his head against an 
object that was long enough to be visible, but 
was placed so that it must be felt before one would 
be led to notice it. The fall and the blow had, in- 
deed, stunned him somewhat, but still he had pres- 
ence of mind enough to grasp the object immedi- 
diately. This object was nothing else but a ladder. 
What could be of more service to him just then than 
a ladder, if he could but see an opening by which to 
enter the house? He rose at once, and, turning his 
eyes to every point of the whitewashed wall, he ob- 
served a sort of attic-window. His resolve was 
immediately taken ; with the least possible noise 
he placed the ladder against the window and flew 
quickly up the rounds. Scarcely had he reached 
the window when the thought occurred to him 


THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 


159 


that it might very likely happen that some one 
would take the ladder away, and then he would 
be imprisoned in the attic. He seized the ends 
of the ladder, and, putting forth all his strength, 
he drew it up through the window with but little 
noise. This labor had, indeed, cost him many 
drops of sweat, but he now wiped them off, feeling 
much safer. 

Walter found himself in a garret. It was so 
dark around him that he could go only by feeling 
his way. Thus he came presently to an opening 
through which he surely would have fallen if he 
had not used the precaution of repeatedly feeling 
with his foot whether there were space before him to 
stand on. To examine what this opening w T as in- 
tended for, he stretched himself at full length upon 
the plank flooring and felt around on all sides. 
Soon he discovered that this was the opening to 
the garret, from which the steps had been removed. 
What should he do? He need not think long. As 
quietly as possible he dragged the ladder to this 
opening and dropped it slowly and cautiously. 
He descended, and reached a large loft, which 
seemed entirely empty, save some hay which lay 
scattered about. He made use of this to form a 
bed, and so to give his weary limbs some rest. 
Gradually sleep overcame him, and, whether he 
would or not, soon his eyelids were fast closed. 

How long he had slept Walter did not know, but 


160 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


he was awakened by a sound which appeared to him 
to be very much like the knocking at a door. He 
stretched himself upon the floor, and perceived in 
it cracks here and there through which a faint light 
was visible. Listening intently, he heard a distinct 
knocking, and soon after the creaking of a door 
upon its hinges; so it appeared that a gather- 
ing was actually taking place in the house. Two, 
three, four times this knocking was repeated, and 
each time some one entered the room, which, as it 
seemed to Walter, was directly beneath this loft. 
Some time elapsed, during which Walter heard 
nothing but some indistinguishable words ; but sud- 
denly another sound struck his ear — a sound which 
he had least of all expected here. Plainly he heard 
the words of a hymn sung by men. 

Walter knew not whether he was awake or dream- 
ing. Was this not a hymn frequently sung by the 
adherents of the Reformation ? And was it not the 
same hymn that was sung in his fathers house when 
John Arentsoon, the great preacher and evangelist, 
was with him ? His heart leaped for joy at the 
recollection of those times, and he could scarcely 
refrain from repeating the hymn just sung. 

Meanwhile, the hymn was finished, and he plain- 
ly heard the manly voice of one who was obviously 
delivering a discourse to those present. From time 
to time he heard certain expressions which confirmed 
his suspicions that those who were here assembled 


THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 


161 


belonged to the adherents of the Reformation and 
were at present holding a secret meeting. 

Walter was confident that he was now at the end 
of his flight, and that persecution could not reach 
him in the midst of his brethren in the faith. But 
how should he let them know that he was there ? 
He could easily signify to them that some one was 
in the loft, but thereby he would only give his 
friends a needless fear, and at the same time cause 
great disturbance to their pious gathering. He lis- 
tened sharply, and perceived that the same speaker 
still continued his discourse. That voice was not 
wholly unfamiliar to him, but he was still too far 
removed to be able to distinguish who it was. 
Meanwhile, it occurred to him that the loft must 
have some exit. But where to look for it? He 
dared not walk, for his steps would certainly be 
heard. Lying flat on the floor, he slid along, feel- 
ing before him with his hands. At last he touched 
an iron ring which was fastened to the floor. Wal- 
ter raised himself upon his knees, pulled at the 
ring, and used every exertion to draw open the 
trapdoor to which the ring was secured. In this 
he succeeded without making the least noise, and 
now he discovered that he was above a bedstead,* 
for the light in the room shone through little open- 

* Old-fashioned bedstead in Holland were constructed with- 
in the walls of the apartment and completely shut from view 
by doors. 

11 


162 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


ings in the door of the bedstead, which was not far 
below him ; and thus, without much hesitation, 
Walter ventured to let himself drop, and soon 
was lying amid the downy pillows and blankets 
of an old-fashioned Dutch bed. As silently as he 
could he opened a little door above his head, and 
succeeded in seeing who occupied the room. Im- 
mediately opposite to him stood his father’s dearest 
friend, the whilom basketmaker John Arentsoon, 
now preacher at Alkmaar. Around a table pro- 
vided with various articles intended for use in 
administering the Lord’s Supper four or five breth- 
ren in the faith were seated in an attitude of prayer. 
Walter reverently uncovered his head, and listened 
and prayed with the speaker. Soon Arentsoon pro- 
nounced the “ Amen,” which was repeated by the 
others. 

And now Walter became witness to a simple 
brotherly communion in remembrance of the suf- 
ferings and death of our Lord Jesus Christ. The 
boy held his breath for fear of disturbing the wor- 
shipers. He did not lose a word ; everything he 
heard and saw furnished him the keenest enjoy- 
ment and seemed to him an ample compensation 
for all he had suffered. True, he did not see his 
father, but he had no doubt that by and by, when 
he should come into the midst of those assembled 
brethren, he would hear from them where his 
father was. 


THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 


163 


The bread and wine had been partaken of, and 
again the little gathering joined in a hymn — a 
hymn which was familiar to Walter. He listened 
in silence till they reached the last stanza, and then 
he sang with them. 

It can easily be imagined, dear reader, what an 
effect this unexpected voice from above had upon 
John Arentsoon and the other brethren ; they all 
suddenly stopped singing and looked in the direc- 
tion whence the voice proceeded. But Walter con- 
tinued singing. The boy, full of joy at having ob- 
tained the fulfillment of his wishes, sang with all 
the exultant zeal which this moment could inspire, 
and signified in this manner that he must be one 
of their friends. 

John Arentsoon was the first to draw this con- 
clusion, and, in his turn lifting up his voice, they 
all together sang the last two lines of the stanza. 

When the last notes of the hymn had died away, 
they all arose, and John Arentsoon, turning to 
Walter, asked him through the opening, 

“ Who are you, and how came you here?” 

“ I am the son of Ralph Harmsen, and came here 
to look for my father.” 

Scarcely had Walter uttered these words, when 
one of those who sat nearest to Arentsoon sprang 
instantly forward, pushed a bolt aside, opened the 
door of the bedstead and caught Walter in his 


arms. 


164 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“ Are you Walter Harmsen of Heemskerk ?” 
asked John Arentsoon, attentively observing the 
boy. 

“ Certainly, Mr. Arentsoon,” answered Walter; 
“ do you not remember me ? About two years ago 
I visited you with my father at Sloterdyk ; do you 
not remember it ?” 

John Arentsoon put his hand to his forehead, as 
if to recall something, and then said, 

“ Yes, now I remember. But you were not alone 
then : you had your grandfather still with you. Is 
not that so ?” 

The boy assented, but said in a sad voice, 

“ Ah, yes ! that is so. But my grandfather is no 
more. The cruel Spaniards, after the taking of 
Haarlem, tore him inhumanly from his home, 
and they have surely taken him to Haarlem and 
martyred him.” 

The tears choked Walter’s voice; but when he 
observed the preacher’s face, and instead of a look 
of compassion noticed a pleasant smile, his heart 
began to beat quickly, and it seemed to him as if 
he were about to hear news which would greatly 
delight him. 

John Arentsoon embraced him tenderly and asked 
him, 

“ Walter, do you believe that the Lord God can 
wonderfully deliver his own, in spite of Spanish 
soldiery and the Inquisition ?” 


THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 


165 


“ Certainly ; with all my heart do I believe it,” 
replied Walter, who breathed more freely already. 

“ Well, then, my dear Walter,” said John Arent- 
soon, “ know that your grandfather is not far from 
here.” 

“ My grandfather ! my dear grandfather !” stam- 
mered Walter, in the joy of his heart weeping 
aloud. 

“He is with your father,” continued John Arent- 
soon. 

Walter could contain himself no longer; he 
seized Arentsoon’s arm, crying, 

“ Where are they ? where are they ?” 

“Hush!” said John Arentsoon. “Be quiet; for 
this is not the proper moment to look for your 
father and grandfather.” 

Walter hung his head and stammered, 

“ I will be patient, but let not my patience be 
tried too long. Can you tell me in what way my 
grandfather escaped ?” 

John Arentsoon took the boy’s hand in his own 
and told him about the following : 

“You are doubtless aware that through the 
treachery of a certain inhabitant of Noortdorp, 
called Wybrandsen, some Spanish soldiers plun- 
dered your grandfather’s house and carried him 
away captive. They bound him with thick ropes 
to the tail of one of their horses and goaded him 
on with their muskets and spears. Thus they pro- 


166 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


ceeded until they reached the farm of a certain 
John Soeter, who secretly favors the Reformation, 
and therefore remains still in that neighborhood, 
expecting in this way to be able to rescue a few of 
the persecuted and oppressed. Arrived at the farm, 
the soldiers granted the old man some rest — not so 
much on his account as for the sake of the foot-sol- 
diers, who had suffered much from the heat among 
the sandhills. Your grandfather was released and 
thrown like an animal upon some bundles of straw 
which lay upon the ground in a hay-barn. The old 
man was wholly exhausted, and groaned with pain. 
The horsemen thought they could go on and leave 
the further conveyance of your grandfather to two 
soldiers. Scarcely were the horsemen gone when the 
soldiers, confident that in his condition the prison- 
er could think of no flight, laid themselves down 
next to him to get some rest. But from resting it 
“came to sleeping, and soon they were snoring so 
loudly that John Soeter heard the sound. The farm- 
er had two servants who by no means sympathized 
with the Spaniards, and who were very indignant at 
the maltreatment the white-haired old man had re- 
ceived at their hands. While, therefore, the soldiers 
were thus soundly sleeping, the laborers said to John 
Soeter, ‘ Would it not be well if we should bind 
the straw which lies in the barn upon the hay-wagon 

and carry some hay to D , near Boekhorst ?’ — 

‘ For my part/ said John Soeter, ‘ Fll have nothing 


THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 


167 


to do with the straw ; you may do with it what you 
like.’ This was all the men wanted to know. A 
team was hitched to the wagon and the straw 
thrown upon it.” 

“ But the soldiers, then, and my grandfather?” 
asked Walter. 

“Did I not tell you,” rejoined Arentsoon, “that 
John Soeter did not wish to have anything to do 
with the straw ? The men bound the straw upon 
the wagon in such a manner that it could not eas- 
ily fall off. They also doubtless looked at the straw 
with an experienced eye, for one bundle they placed 
carefully in the front part of the wagon, while 
they threw the two other bundles down in the 
rear. And so they came to this neighborhood, and in 
such a way that nothing was suspected at Haarlem.” 

“And my grandfather?” asked Walter, who 
could scarcely restrain his impatience. 

“Your grandfather arrived in safety at the house 
of the brother of the man who owns this dwelling. 
This man has nursed him with the most loving 
care, so that yesterday he could leave his house, 
and is now at Kleinofhem, where a relative of Sir 
Batenburg is living.” 

“ I am rejoiced that my dear grandfather was thus 
rescued. How good is the Lord !” 

“Well may you say that, Walter,” assented John 
Arentsoon. “ The children of God especially expe- 
rience this, for they have received eyes with which 


168 


WALTER HA RATSEN. 


to behold his wonderful benefits. — This very night we 
have again been witnesses thereof, my dear friends 
and brethren/’ continued John Arentsoon, turning to 
those who had partaken of the Lord’s Supper with 
him. “ We were permitted to receive anew, by the 
eating and drinking of the bread and wine, the as- 
surance that our sins are forgiven. We also received 
fresh proofs of the Lord’s favor, since he brought to 
our arms in so unexpected a way the son of a dear 
brother. Truly, we have reason to bless the Lord. 
Come ! let us unite in prayer.” 

John Arentsoon kneeled, while all those who 
were in the apartment, Walter not excepted, fol- 
lowed his example. He prayed with a humility 
such as could be expected alone from an experi- 
enced Christian ; and when he spoke the “ Amen,” 
all testified that the Lord had been very near to 
them. 

For some moments they remained plunged in 
deep thought, but Walter, knowing that he was so 
near his loved ones, had little rest. He once more 
gave expression to his intense desire to make his 
way to Kleinofhem, and Arentsoon, embracing 
him tenderly, said, 

“ I shall try and have you brought there ; I my- 
self cannot go with you. 1 was at Kleinofhem this 
afternoon, where I took leave of your father, who 
remained with your grandfather. I had promised 
to meet here with some faithful brethren, and I am 


THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 


169 


now about to take leave of them also ; for my dear 
people at Alkmaar are longing for me to come back. 
I will entrust you to the care of two brethren 
who live near Kleinofhem, and will conduct you 
thither.” 

Immediately some declared themselves willing to 
comply with the preacher’s wish ; and when John 
Arentsoon named one of them, it seemed to Walter 
as if he had heard that name before, and, asking 
whether that man was not married to Geert Geert- 
sen’s sister, he received from her husband’s own 
mouth the glad news that the woman whom he had 
saved a night or two ago was, together with her 
children, also at Kleinofhem. This information 
was very welcome to Walter, and but increased his 
desire to go. 

At this moment there was heard the cracking of 
a whip outside the house, and, as this was the sign 
that the wagon which was to convey John Arent- 
soon hence stood in readiness, they all gathered once 
more about the beloved and faithful preacher of 
God’s word and pressed his hand cordially, while 
many a prayer fell from their lips. John Arent- 
soon spread his hands over them in benediction 
and commended all to the gracious keeping of the 
Almighty, after which he left the house, ascended 
the wagon and soon disappeared in the Noord wyk 
woods. 

John Arentsoon did not see his friends again; 


170 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


he died daring the siege of Alkmaar, in October, 

1573. 

Half an hour after John Arentsoon’s departure 
from the house, the room where the meeting had 
been held was cleared, the lamp extinguished, and 
Walter and his friends were soon on the road to 
Kleinof hem, where he safely arrived at the expira- 
tion of about half an hour. 

I shall not attempt to describe the joy and hap- 
piness of the reunion when Walter was received by 
his father and his grandfather. My pen is incapa- 
ble of doing justice to the feelings which filled the 
soul of the aged Harmsen, his son and his grand- 
child. For a long time they were locked in one 
another’s embrace without uttering a word, and not 
until they had given free course to their tears of joy 
were they enabled to say to one another, “ Truly, 
the Lord is great in mercy; his love is without 
end.” 

Geert Geertsen’s sister was also present at this 
reunion, and it may easily be imagined that sleep 
was little thought of that night at Kleinof hem. 
Many an hour was spent in relating what had 
befallen the grandfather and Walter. The former 
wept on hearing of Aggie’s sad death, but the con- 
fidence that she had entered eternity with her eyes 
fixed on Jesus once more poured sweet wine into 
the bitter cup which he had so often drunk. Wal- 
ter’s father also had many a special mercy to re- 


THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS. 


171 


count. The occurrence at the castle Westerhout, 
the incident in Baldwin’s dwelling, the flight of 
Walter and Dirk, the wicked deeds of the Noort- 
dorp Fox, the heroism of the brave Kuikhaver, 
Baldwin’s death, — all was told ; and when the 
first beams of the rising sun lighted the windows 
of Kleinofhem, Walter still sat in the midst of 
his loved ones blessing God for all he had done 
for them. 


CHAPTER XI. 


A BATTLE ON THE SEA. 

I T was about the middle of October, 1573 — a 
memorable year in the history of Alkmaar — 
when on a certain day the streets of the old-fash- 
ioned town of Hoorn were crowded by a multitude 
of people, many having even climbed upon the 
roofs of the houses the better to observe what 
was taking place within the walls of their seaport. 
And it was indeed worth the trouble to exert one’s 
self not to lose anything of what was to be seen, 
for on this day the admiral of the Spanish fleet, 
Count Bossu, was led captive into Hoorn with 
many of his men. 

Among the spectators were two old acquaintances : 
if our eyes had been directed to a window in the 
street along which the procession moved, Ralph 
Harmsen and his son Walter would certainly have 
been observed. Just as a small division of Holland 
spearmen passed through the street Walter and his 
father had stepped to the window, and recognized 
in the commanding officer the brave Captain Ruik- 
haver, who took such an important part in this 

172 


A BATTLE ON THE SEA. 


173 


naval battle. The officer observed them, and gave 
them the warrior’s salute. But who can describe 
Walter’s surprise when he observed Dirk Gapertz 
in the midst of some marines? The whilom kitch- 
en-boy seemed to be in excellent spirits ; at least, 
he stepped proudly past the house, as much as to 
say, “See what great heroes we are!” And such 
indeed they were. The battle that had just been 
fought was one of the most remarkable of the 
long war with Spain. 

The reader remembers our telling about the 
siege of Haarlem. One disadvantage under which 
the defenders of that devoted city had labored was 
that a large lake, called the Haarlem Lake, afforded 
to the Spaniards the opportunity of cutting off 
their supplies. Many conflicts had taken place 
upon its waters between the patriots and the enemy, 
in small open boats or not much larger sailing-craft, 
but finally the Spaniards cut the dyke (or earth- 
bank) that ran between Haarlem and Amsterdam, 
and which held back the waters of the Gulf of Y. 
When these waters rushed through the opening of 
the dyke into the lake, its depth was so greatly 
increased that the ships-of-war of the Spaniards, 
commanded by Admiral Count Bossu, could enter 
it; and now the enemy gained complete control of 
the lake. After the surrender of the city the Span- 
ish fleet had returned into the Y. 

Meanwhile, the siege of Alkmaar was being 


174 


WALTER HARMSEN 


pressed, and the patriots, to prevent this fleet in 
the Y from co-operating with the Spanish land 
forces, had sought to make the outlet of the Y into 
the Zuyder Zee impassable by sinking boats and old 
vessels, and all sorts of rubbish, in the channel ; but 
this proved of no avail. Though much delayed, 
the fleet under Bossu succeeded in clearing the 
channel. It sailed forth into the Zuyder Zee on 
the 6th day of October, two days before the Span- 
iards were compelled to abandon the siege of Alk- 
maar. As news did not travel very fast in those 
days, Count Bossu did not know but that the siege 
was yet in full force; so he steered for the north to 
render what aid he could to the Spanish army under 
Don Frederick. 

But the Dutch patriots had not been idle ; and if 
on land they were as yet hardly able to cope with 
the forces of Spain except from the walls of their 
cities, on the sea the sturdy Dutch mariners — called 
“ Water-Beggars ” — were quite a match for them. 
The ships of the Water-Beggars had entered the 
Zuyder Zee from the north, and had been cruising 
up and down in the vicinity of Hoorn, expecting 
the enemy’s fleet at any moment. In order to re- 
inforce their numbers, some detachments of the 
patriot army had been withdrawn from Alkmaar 
during the early part of its siege, and among these 
were the soldiers under the command of Captain 
Ruikhaver. Thus it was that Walter’s uncle hap- 


A BATTLE ON THE SEA. 


175 


pened to be with the fleet, as also was his friend 
Dirk Gapertz. 

During several days the hostile fleets frequently 
came in sight of each other. Their numbers -were 
about equal, but many of the Spanish vessels were 
very much larger than those of the Dutch, and 
carried heavier guns. The Spanish admiral there- 
fore preferred to keep the Water-Beggars at a dis- 
tance, and to let them feel the effects of his heavier 
cannon. The latter were anxious to reduce the 
distance and to try the chances of a close encounter, 
even a hand-to-hand combat if possible. Finally, 
on the 11th of October, the wind was such that the 
smaller ships had the advantage of[ the larger in 
sailing and steering and could approach them as 
they pleased, while the others could not get them- 
selves out of the way. Thus they could not escape 
the close battle which the Hollanders sought. The 
whole fleet of the patriots now bore down upon that 
of the enemy. 

The Dutch admiral, Cornells Dirkzoon, made 
straight for the Spanish admiral, whose flagship 
was tauntingly named the “ Inquisition.” As Dirk- 
zoon’s ship glanced along the Inquisition on one side 
another Dutch vessel grappled it on the opposite side, 
while a third and fourth fastened themselves beneath 
its lofty bow and stern. Most of the Spanish ves- 
sels strangely deserted their admiral, and those that 
stood their ground were driven to flight. They 


176 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


were hotly pursued by the Water-Beggars and 
several captured. The battle now continued only 
between the Spanish admiral’s huge ship and the 
four smaller vessels that were desperately clinging 
to her on all sides. 

And fierce indeed was the battle. It commenced 
at three o’clock in the afternoon and continued until 
eleven o’clock in the forenoon of the next day — 
twenty hours of continuous, sanguinary, hand-to- 
hand fighting. No attention whatever was paid 
to seamanship; the five vessels drifted along with 
the wind and tide. Ere long the large Spanish 
ship struck upon a sandbank not far from the 
North Holland shore. Here supplies of men and 
ammunition could reach the patriot vessels without 
hindrance, while the Spaniards were rapidly losing 
both. At one time a bold sailor — John Haring by 
name — leaped into the rigging of the Inquisition, 
climbed aloft with the agility of a cat, tore down 
the Spanish flag, and nailed the Holland colors to 
the mast. But on his descent from this gallant ex- 
ploit he was shot through the heart, and fell dead 
upon the enemy’s deck. There could, however, be 
but one issue to this unequal combat. The Span- 
ish admiral at last felt that to continue the fi<rht 
would be nothing but murderous obstinacy, as 
victory was utterly out of the question ; three- 
fourths of his men had already been killed. 
Accordingly, he surrendered at eleven o’clock in 


A BATTLE ON THE SEA. 


177 


the morning of October 12, four days after the 
relief of Alkmaar. Count Bossu became a pris- 
oner of war. 

Boundless was the joy of the patriots ; two sig- 
nal successes gained within so short a time over a 
foe that boasted himself invincible raised the spirits 
of the people and greatly encouraged them in their 
struggle for liberty. 

That same day Ruikhaver called on Walter’s 
father. The brave warrior was greatly rejoiced to 
see father and son so happily reunited, and, although 
he had but one hour at his disposal, he communicated 
various important matters of interest. Among other 
things, he told Walter that the well-known Noort- 
dorp Fox had the day before been led a prisoner to 
Hoorn and would to-morrow suffer death for his 
many crimes. He had been caught in the act of 
torturing a woman to death ; and when he had 
been examined on this charge by the magistrate, 
so many cruelties were brought to light that sen- 
tence of death was pronounced upon him. 

Ralph Harmsen had already heard so much 
about the Noortdorp Fox that it was not neces- 
sary for Walter to urge his father to visit the man. 
Through Ruikhaver’s influence with the keeper of 
the prison, Ralph Harmsen and his son gained 
access to the doomed man that same day. They 
found the unhappy wretch in a terrible condition. 

12 


178 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


He was chained by the right hand to the stone 
wall ; his eye expressed the despair of one who is 
sensible that it is a fearful thing to fall into the 
hands of the living God. For a moment father 
and son stood thunderstruck at this sight. Walter 
hid his face on his father’s bosom ; compassion for 
the villain caused the tears to well up in his eyes. 

Slowly Ralph Harmsen approached the Noort- 
dorp Fox and said softly, 

“ Wybrandsen !” 

The Fox shook the red hairs from before his 
eyes, and, casting a despairing look at father and 
son, he uttered a loud cry. 

“ Wybrandsen,” repeated Ralph Harmsen, “ do 
you remember this lad?” 

The Fox fixed his eyes immovably on the ground, 
as though he dared not meet the questioner’s look. 

“ Wybrandsen,” continued Walter’s father, “ you 
have done me and mine much evil, but the Lord 
God has ordered it all for the best. However, we 
did not come to judge you; on the contrary, we 
have come here to forgive you for all the harm 
you have done us. Yes, what is more, I have 
come to pray with you. You know that to- 
morrow — ” 

“Ha! to-morrow!” yelled the wretched man. 
“ To-morrow — ” 

“You will appear before the Judge of heaven 
and earth,” said Ralph Harmsen ; “ to-morrow 


A BATTLE ON THE SEA. 


179 


you must render an account for all you have 
done. Wybrandsen,” he continued, approaching a 
step nearer, “ are you prepared to meet that 
Judge?” 

Wybrandsen gave no answer, but struck his right 
hand against his forehead in token that he was in 
great fear. 

“ It is, however, not yet too late, poor man !” 
Walter’s father continued, laying his hand upon 
the prisoner’s shoulder; “it is never too late for 
him who will go to Jesus with a repenting heart. 
Think of it ! The murderer upon the cross found 
grace, therefore do not despair. Confess your sins 
to the Lord in sincerity, pour out your heart with 
all its wickedness before him ; seek pardon in Jesus 
Christ, who came to seek and to save them that 
were lost, and you will find that he has no pleasure 
in the death of the wicked, but that the wicked 
should turn from his way and live. And while 
you now hear his loving voice harden not your 
heart.” 

Ralph Harmsen ceased a moment, to wait for 
an answer from the prisoner; but, as he did not 
receive any, he continued : 

“ Wybrandsen, I ask you now, in the name of the 
Lord, are you prepared to appear before God’s 
judgment-throne and give an account for the 
sins committed in your life?” 

“ No, no, no, no !” moaned the wretched man, 


180 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


nervously pressing the chained hand against his 
breast. 

“ Prepare yourself, then,” said Walter’s father. 
“ I repeat it again : confess your sins to him ; fall at 
his feet and beseech his pardon. Will you not do 
this?” 

The Fox answered not, but wiped away a tear 
which had fallen upon his hand. 

“ Think on what he offers you,” continued Ralph 
Harmsen — “an eternal salvation if you repent, 
or — ” 

“ I can hope for no salvation,” answered the Fox, 
slowly and in a hollow voice. 

“You say this, but the Lord speaks not thus. 
He calls to you at this very moment and invites 
you to come penitently unto him.” 

“ I have done too much evil to be forgiven,” 
cried the prisoner, folding his hands. 

“ The Lord Jesus prayed even for his murderers ; 
therefore do not despair, for you have an Advocate 
with God who came into the world to deliver your 
soul from eternal perdition. Go, therefore, Wy- 
brandsen — go to Jesus before it is too late ; for there 
remains no second sacrifice. Go, then, to him with 
all your guilt, with all your sins. His blood 
cleanseth from all sin — from all sin.” 

The tears flowed down the prisoner’s cheeks. 

The following day the sentence of death was 
executed. 


A BATTLE ON THE SEA. 


181 


We now leave our hero for an interval of some 
years ; and when again we meet him, we shall find 
him in quite a different part of the country, and 
fully committed to his life’s chosen work. 


CHAPTER XII. 


A RAINY DAY. 

S IX years have passed since the events related in 
our previous chapter. It is the early spring 
of the year 1579. It had rained incessantly for 
twenty-four hours, nor did it seem even yet as if 
the sluices of heaven would soon be closed. So 
much rain was especially disagreeable at a time 
when umbrellas were unknown in Europe. 

About halfway between the cities of Utrecht and 
Amersfoort, in the province of Utrecht, there stood 
an inn which presented by no means an imposing 
appearance. Over the door there hung a sign upon 
which was depicted what was meant to be an angel 
blowing a trumpet, the purport of the sound that 
was supposed to be emitted therefrom being in- 
dicated by the one word “Vrede” (“Peace”). 
The keeper of this inn went, accordingly, by 
the name of “the Vrede-host,” and the respectable 
burghers of the neighborhood were accustomed to 
assemble here at stated days and hours to enjoy 
their pot of “Amersfoorter beer.” 

182 


A RAINY DAY . 


183 


But this inn had been lately much patronized by 
the Anabaptists, who had settled themselves in great 
numbers in this vicinity. This sect is well known 
in the history of the Reformation for its wild ex- 
cesses and the extravagance of its fanaticism. The 
acquisition by the Church of temporal power and 
the establishment of an earthly kingdom were 
among its tenets. Accordingly, at a favorable 
moment its adherents had seized upon the city 
of Münster, in Germany, more than fifty years 
before the date of our tale. While in possession 
of the city they had made themselves guilty of 
many outrages upon common sense, religion, and 
even decency. A fellow by the name of John of 
Leyden, a low artisan, had caused himself to be 
proclaimed king. In the year 1535 the bishop 
of Münster, aided by some of the princes of the 
German empire, recovered the city after an obsti- 
nate siege. 

Although the sect was nearly annihilated by the 
persecutions which followed this defeat, it had not 
been rooted out completely. After the death of 
John of Leyden his doctrines were again widely 
disseminated by one David Joris, who died in 
1556. Then arose successively kings or leaders 
rejoicing in the titles of John the Cobbler, John 
the Hatbandmaker, and other “ Johns ” of that 
ilk. All these obtained a more or less extensive 
following. At the time of our story the sect was 


184 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


led by a self-styled king who had collected a 
numerous band of followers, or subjects, about 
him, and who had chosen the province of Utrecht 
as his headquarters. This Anabaptist king is 
known in history by the name of John William 
Stevens, or, more commonly, by that of John 
Williams, by which latter designation we shall 
farther on introduce him to our readers. 

On this rainy day three men were seated in the 
Vrede inn. Two of them had placed themselves 
in the middle of the guest-chamber, and were busy 
emptying a beer-can ; the other was sitting near the 
only window that afforded light to the apartment. 
It was very clear that the latter was not a com- 
panion of the other two men, for not only did he 
pay no attention to their noisy conversation, but he 
greatly differed from them in his appearance. The 
two companions seemed to belong to that class 
of persons who have no great desire to provide for 
their daily wants by an honest handicraft or trade, 
or any work whatever. The man by the window, 
on the contrary, was evidently a stranger to this 
inn, having been compelled to enter it only as a 
shelter from the rain. Although a young man 
who had not added many years to his twentieth, 
he yet seemed to have already attained some ad- 
vancement in the profession of a soldier ; he wore 
the uniform of an ensign in the States’ army. His 
features were prepossessing ; in spite of his youth, 


A RAINY RAY. 


185 


they betokened a high degree of acuteness and 
resolution. His thin lips were firmly set while 
in repose, and the clear eyes, although now mild 
in expression, betrayed a latent fire and seemed 
accustomed to keen observation. 

As we said, the young soldier was seated at a 
small table by the window. The long rapier fas- 
tened to a white leather belt, which he had un- 
clasped, was suspended on the high back of his 
chair. From time to time he gazed listlessly out 
of the window and whiled away the time by watch- 
ing the raindrops pattering down upon the heath. 
When, occasionally, a lull in the storm would leave 
the atmosphere somewhat clearer, he could detect 
in the distance the church-steeple of the village of 
Vlooswyk. Now and then his look turned toward 
an inner door communicating with a back room, as 
if he expected some one to issue from that region ; 
and whenever the host, who sat perched upon a 
beer-cask, noticed that look, he called out to the 
stranger, 

“ Have patience, Sir Ensign ! Your meal will 
be ready in a few moments.” 

The ensign would then contentedly nod his head, 
drum a march upon the table with his fingers and 
gaze once more into vacancy, or, what was not 
much better, through the window and across the 
Amersfoort heath, taking no account whatever of 
the presence of the other two guests, who continued 


186 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


to carry on their conversation in ever the same bois- 
terous tones. 

“ Hallo there, mine host !” one of the latter sud- 
denly cried out. “ Do you think we want to get 
mouldy here? Our can has long been empty, and 
it seems the more it rains the more thirsty we get. 
Give us a fresh canful, quick !” With this he held 
up the empty can and handed it to the innkeeper, 
who hastened, with many bows, to fulfill his guest’s 
wishes. A moment later the host placed a foaming 
can before them, and then went into the rear apart- 
ment, in order, doubtless, to see to the preparations 
for the ensign’s meal. 

Meantime, the two boon-companions, having 
each taken a deep draught of the beer, continued 
their conversation as follows : 

“ I tell you, Gysbert Barends, that the lord of 
Vlooswyk gives our master many a good piece of 
money to earn, and, although it comes from such a 
papist, what matters it so long as we get our share 
of it?” 

“Yes, and it is a pity, Koen,” said the other, 
carelessly resting one hand upon the hilt of a short 
straight sword — “ it is a pity that we shall not stay 
much longer hereabouts.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

“ Well, it all seems clear enough to me. You 
know,” continued Barends, taking another draught, 
“ that I have a pretty good pair of eyes in my head, 


A RAINY DA Y. 


187 


and I use them too. I have noticed for some time 
past that our master, John Williams, is getting a 
little uneasy ; very likely he does not think himself 
safe in these parts, because the States’ troops, as well 
as the Utrecht magistracy, are having their eye on 
him. I am afraid they may soon stop all our busi- 
ness ; that would be too bad.” 

“Yes, that would be bad,” assented Koen. 
“ But what then ?” 

“ I don’t know. But one thing is sure : John 
Williams won’t pitch his camp except where 
something is to be gotten.” 

“ That, to be sure, is very royal of him. But 
each according to his deserts.” 

“ Yes,” said Barends, laughing ; “ that’s what 
that fat priest of the cloister of Our Lady says too 
whenever he is alone in the wine-cellar.” 

“ He isn’t of much account, is he ?” asked Koen, 
seizing the beer-can. 

“ No, but we can make him useful to us. He 
differs much from M. Waenders, his reverend col- 
league ; he is as keen as a fox.” 

“ You may believe he is ! How nicely he can 
deceive people with his saintly countenance!” 

At this point the man addressed as Barends called 
at the top of his voice to the host to bring them an- 
other can of beer. 

The latter came out of the back room, carrying 
some victuals designed for the ensign’s use. After 


188 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


first hurriedly filling the order of the pot-fellows, 
he spread a clean tablecloth upon the table by the 
window and set before his guest a round loaf of 
Utrecht brown bread, butter, eggs and fried bacon. 
These articles were well calculated to invite the 
ensign's appetite ; and when the host had once 
more seated himself upon his beer-cask, the for- 
mer doffed his broad-brimmed hat and reverently 
asked a silent blessing upon his food. This did not 
escape the notice of the other two guests, and, put- 
ting their heads together, they indulged in jests at 
the expense of the young man, who, indeed, ob- 
served this, but did not intend to notice it or get 
into an altercation with them. 

“Well, now," said Barends, mockingly, and 
somewhat louder than the affected whispers they 
had exchanged before, “ it seems as if this pious 
ensign was going to make this place his quarters 
for the night." 

“ That is bad enough," remarked the other ; “ I 
hope he won't interfere with our arrangements. 
What time will Walter Harmsen be here?" 

Koen had not said this very loudly, but whether 
the ensign had given particular attention just then, 
or whether something in what was spoken had 
struck him, suffice it to say that no sooner had the 
fellow ceased speaking than the officer laid down 
his fork and for the first time looked straight at the 
two men. 


A RAINY J DAY. 


189 


Barends touched Ids questioner with his foot 
under the table, and said, 

“ Don’t speak so loud, Cornells ; don’t you see 
that he’s listening to us?” 

“ What of that ?” said Koen, defiantly, turning 
to the beer-can. “ What care I for that young 
milksop ? If he annoys me, I’ll make him smart 
for it, as sure as my name is Cornell's Koen. I’m 
not a bit afraid of his long sword there.” 

“ Do keep still !” said his companion, who saw 
that the beer was having its effect. “ Don’t you 
remember that our master has strictly forbidden us 
to molest any of the States’ troops ?” 

“ That may be, but none shall forbid me to stop 
any of them annoying me. I’ll — ” 

“ Hush, Koen !” whispered Barends. “Fill the 
glasses, and let’s drink to the success of our under- 
taking.” 

But Cornells Koen could not be prevailed upon 
to subside. He did not, indeed, omit to pay his 
respects once more to the contents of the beer-can, 
but, striking with his left hand as hard as he could 
upon the table, he raised his glass high in the air 
with the other, and called out, to the no little con- 
sternation of mine host, 

“ I drink to the perdition of all eavesdroppers!” 

The ensign did not deign even to look around, 
and quietly put a piece of fried bacon into his 
mouth. Koen had certainly expected that his 


190 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


words would enrage the officer and force him into 
a quarrel; he now assumed an air of calm con- 
tempt, saying to Barends, with an attempt at 
withering scorn, 

“ With an army of such men as that, the Span- 
iards will soon be driven from the land ! What 
say you? Methinks if they were but to get a 
sight of such bacon-eaters, they would run away 
at once.” 

Barends again touched Koen with his foot and 
used every endeavor to bring him to reason. At 
length he said, 

“ Remember that the other one may come at any 
moment, and what then ? In our undertaking we 
must use caution, or else he may escape us.” 

“ Walter Harmsen escape us?” replied Koen, 
scornfully. “ That never !” 

And again the ensign looked up from his victuals 
and threw a quick glance toward the speaker. 


CHAPTEK XIII. 

TE O UB LESOME CO MP A NTONS. 

T HIS second look of the ensign incensed Corne- 
lls Koen beyond all bounds. In spite of Ba- 
rends’s remonstrances, he rose to his feet, ran to the 
place where the officer was quietly taking his meal, 
and said in an insulting manner, 

“ What right have you to listen so shamelessly to 
our conversation ?” 

The ensign laid upon the plate the egg which he 
was about to eat, and, fixing his intelligent eye 
upon the fellow, regarded him in silence with a 
penetrating glance expressing mingled pity and 
contempt. 

“ Do you not hear me, my little ensign ?” contin- 
ued the half-intoxicated Koen, who could ill brook 
this cool behavior, at the same time striking the 
table violently with his hand. 

The ensign, having no desire to degrade himself 
by entering into a quarrel with the drunken fellow, 
persisted in ignoring his insults, and, taking the egg 
from his plate, began to shell it. 


191 


192 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“ You shaVt eat that egg!’’ shouted Koen, grow- 
ing still more enraged. 

“ No ?” inquired the ensign, innocently. 

“No! I tell you no !” retorted Koen. 

“ Why not?” again inquired the ensign, sprink- 
ling some salt upon the egg. 

“ Because I can’t endure your presence here.” 

“ But I do not interfere with you in any way, 
do I?” 

“‘Not interfere’?” cried Koen. “For more 
than half an hour you sit there and listen to all 
that is said.” 

“But I think I have as much right in this pub- 
lic-house as you have ; and if you choose to talk in 
loud tones, must I close my ears? To listen, look 
and say nothing is usually thought a commendable 
virtue, and I recollect how the priest of Egmond 
used to tell me: 

< Wilt be discreet and wise ? 

Thine ears thou needst not close, 

But keep thy lips in better guise : 

A padlock’s weight impose.’ ” 


“ What do I care about your priest of Egmond 
and his padlock ? I have nothing to do with them. 
Your presence annoys me, and therefore pav what 
you owe here, and then go your way, or ” (with an 
oath) “ I will show you your way myself.” 

“It is written,” observed the ensign, looking 


TROUBLESOME COMPANIONS. 


193 


earnestly at Koen, “ ‘ Thou shalt not take the name 
of the Lord thy God in vain/ ” 

“Keep your pious saws to yourself. I know 
about these things just as well as you do, although 
I don’t make such a show of them.” 

“ So much the worse, then, for you ; for it is 
written again, ‘ To him that knoweth to do good, 
and doeth it not, to him it is sin.’ ” 

“ It seems,” said the fellow, who became even 
more angry in proportion as the ensign preserved 
his temper — “ it seems that you are bound to exas- 
perate me with your Bible texts. All that talk, 
whether papist or Protestant, is of no good, any- 
how : I belong to the Church of the true fol- 
lowers of Jesus Christ.” 

The ensign’s indignation now first began to kin- 
dle; it pained him to hear such a sacred name fall 
from lips so unworthy. He rose to his feet, and, 
folding his arms, said, 

“ You shall not take the holy name of Jesus thus 
lightly upon your lips. Awhile ago you uttered a 
profane oath ; if you belong to the true Church, 
you should witness a good confession before men.” 

“ What confession ?” was Koen’s disdainful reply. 
“ I belong to the true people whom the Lord hath 
chosen unto himself and given the New Jerusalem 
for a possession. Your confession is no doubt a 
lesson learned by rote and drilled into you by 
Nicholas Sopingius, one of those made-to-order 

13 


194 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


preachers in the church at Utrecht. What is 
your confession but a gathering-up of all sorts of 
nonsense ?” 

“You ask me about my confession/’ replied 
the ensign. “ I shall never be ashamed to own it. 
This is perhaps hardly the place to speak of such 
things, yet I will tell you that I belong to the 
Reformed Church and am devoted body and soul 
to the Reformed Confession.”* 

“Did I not say that, with all your texts, you 
were a pious little ensign? Come, come! you 

* Our readers must not be surprised to hear such words as 
these, such bold and earnest expressions of faith in Christ and 
of loyal and fearless devotion to the Church, from the lips of 
an army-officer in the year 1579. But years before the organi- 
zation of the Church the name of “ Reformed ” had obtained a 
special significance. The “Confession” originated as follows: 
In the year 1562 a certain zealous preacher, Guido de Bres, 
assisted by Herman Modet and other pioneers of the faith in the 
Netherlands, composed a little book in the Walloon language, 
later published in Dutch under the title, Acknowledgment or 
Confession of the Faith held commonly and unitedly by the Faith- 
ful , who are scattered everywhere throughout the Netherlands, and who 
desire to live in acco'rdance with the purity of the Holy Gospel of our 
Lord Jesus Christ. In the year 1563 this Confession, revised and 
approved by a convention at Antwerp, was published in both 
Dutch and German, and two or three years ‘later an abbrevia- 
tion of it, comprising thirty-seven articles, was published in 
Holland. These thirty-seven articles still form one of the 
standards of the “Reformed (Dutch) Church in America.” 
See, for origin of the name and the distinction of Reformed , 
and for the rise of the Reformed Church in Holland, the latter 
part of the next chapter. — Translator. 



The Attack in the Inn 


Page 195 







































. 















\ 













TROUBLESOME COMPANIONS. 


195 


are in a good way to become a catechiser or field- 
preacher. But now let’s see if you have learned 
to obey. I tell you to leave this place, or I’ll read 
you a text which you won’t soon forget.” Thus 
speaking, he drew from beneath his cloak a short 
but stout sword, and, with the cry, “ Help, Barends, 
help !” he was about to throw himself upon the 
youthful soldier. Quick as thought the ensign 
unsheathed his rapier and prepared to receive his 
adversary. 

The host, from his seat upon the beer-cask, had 
in vain endeavored to prevail upon his guests to 
keep the peace, and had grown more and more un- 
comfortable during this exchange of words; now 
he precipitately left the room. 

Barends, as the dispute progressed, had many a 
time shaken his head disconsolately over the folly 
of his comrade ; but when he perceived that it had 
actually come to a life-or-death encounter in which 
Cornelis Koen might very likely be the loser, he 
sprang to his feet, and, rushing to the latter’s assist- 
ance sword in hand, he placed himself beside him, 
in order to attack the ensign with combined forces. 

Fortunately, the ensign succeeded, while con- 
fronting his assailants, in keeping the wall at his 
back ; so that they could not attack him in the 
rear. He made a temporary barricade of the 
heavy chair on which he had been sitting, and, 
swinging his long rapier, he cried out defiantly, 


196 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


“ Back, I tell you, or I’ll run you both through 
at one thrust !” 

“ Hear that young braggart !” retorted Koen. 
“ He talks as if he were sure of his game. But 
we’ll soon stop that pious Reformed mouth of 
yours. There ! taste that !” He pressed toward 
the ensign, intending to deal him a fatal blow, 
but the latter parried the thrust by a skillful 
movement, and succeeded, at the same time, in 
inflicting a severe wound upon his assailant’s hand. 
Infuriated by the pain, he was about to hurl him- 
self upon the soldier, reckless of the sword that 
was pointed at him. 

Barends, meantime, had gone around the table to 
assail the ensign on his flank. Serious as his dan- 
ger was becoming, the youth was still anxious to 
spare the lives of the murderous pot-fellows. Bring- 
ing down the flat of his blade with a stunning blow 
upon Koen’s head, causing the ruffian to reel back- 
ward and fall to the floor, he turned in the same 
instant upon Barends to ward off the attack from 
his quarter. 

“ The accursed wretch !” roared Koen, doing his 
best to get upon his feet again. “ If I had you in 
my power, I’d tear you to pieces. — Strike, Barends, 
strike! Cut this Reformed fellow right through 
the heart !” 

“ Be careful, my man !” said the ensign to Ba- 
rends, fired by Koen’s words. “ Be careful ! I have 


TROUBLESOME COMPANIONS. 


197 


your life in my hands. If I must, I will sell 
mine dearly.” 

“ Throw a chair at his head, Barends !” cried 
Koen, who had risen and was again pressing 
upon the officer. “I’ll teach him how I punish 
such eavesdroppers as he.” 

Barends needed no second admonition. He 
seized a heavy chair, and, while Koen was engaging 
the youth’s attention by compelling him to parry 
his sword-th rusts, Barends was about to hurl the 
ponderous wooden missile at his head, when voices 
were heard in the next room. The door leading to 
the rear of the house was thrown open, and the 
host and three men entered the guest-chamber. 

“This way ! this way !” shouted mine host, point- 
ing out the combatants to the new-comers. 

No sooner did the two Anabaptists perceive the en- 
trance of these men than they exchanged significant 
glances. Barends dropped the uplifted chair, mut- 
tering to his companion, “ It’s he !” They fled with 
all haste through the front door, forgetting that their 
last can was not yet empty and leaving it for the 
later arrivals to settle their reckoning. Two of 
these ran out of the house after the villains, while 
the third approached the ensign to inquire if he 
were hurt. 

The ensign regarded the young man with a look 
of mingled surprise and pleasure, and then ex- 
claimed, 


198 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“ Walter Harmsen !” 

The latter scanned the soldier carefully ; it began 
to dawn upon him that his features were not un- 
familiar. He made an effort to recall the past, 
and at last, reaching out his hand to the ensign 
in a cordial grasp, exclaimed, . 

“Am I right? Are you not my friend Dirk 
Gapertz of Egmond?” 

“ The same stands, by God’s grace, alive before 
you, and is rejoiced that he is permitted once more 
to see him whom he had not expected to meet 
again except in heaven.” 

“ Who would have thought that we should meet 
again?” said Walter Harmsen. “You were often 
in my mind during these last six years, and I feared 
greatly that you had lost your life in the service of 
your country. I am heartily glad to see you, and 
to perceive that you are an officer.” 

“ Yes ; I received my promotion about two weeks 
ago. And where is your home at present?” 

“ In Utrecht, and you must go with me as soon 
as we can leave this place. But here are my two 
friends.” Thus speaking, he pointed to the two 
young men who had gone in pursuit of the ensign’s 
assailants, and who now re-entered the inn. 

“We could not see anything of them, Walter,” 
one of them said ; “ the rascals no doubt hid them- 
selves somewhere in the underbrush.” 

“ Let them go, my good sirs,” remarked the sol- 


TROUBLESOME COMPANIONS. 


199 


dier. “ Vengeance does not belong to us ; sooner or 
later they will get the reward of their doings.” 

“Allow me, dear friends,” said Walter Harmsen, 
“ to present to you my former traveling-compan- 
ion among the sandhills, of whom you have often 
heard me speak — my worthy friend Dirk Gapertz, 
ensign in the States’ service. — And these,” Walter 
continued, turning to Gapertz, “are my fellow- 
students Jacob Hermans — or, to call him by the 
more learned name which he prefers himself, Ar- 
minius — and Thomas Brully, who lives with me 
at our house.” 

“ I feel greatly honored in being permitted to 
enter the society of such learned gentlemen,” re- 
marked the ensign, cordially shaking their hands. 
“ I am afraid, however, that my rude soldier-ways 
and my small learning will contribute but little 
toward making the acquaintance mutually enjoy- 
able.” 

“ My friend Walter Harmsen,” replied Arminius, 
graciously, “ is my guarantee for the contrary, and 
I am rejoiced that the rain forced us to seek shelter 
here, as otherwise we might not have had the oppor- 
tunity of meeting you.” 

“ Say, rather,” remarked the other young man, 
who was introduced as Thomas Brully, “ that it so 
happened by the orderings of God’s providence.” 

“ Oh, you always come forward with your pet- 
doctrine of predestination, Thomas!” said Armin- 


200 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


ius, lightly. “No matter how simply and natu- 
rally events run together, you call it a foreordain- 
ing of God. It looks as if you couldn’t live with- 
out it.” 

“ Well may you say that, Arminius,” replied 
Brully. “ I would not now be in existence if 
it had not been for the ordering power and plan 
of God which we call predestination. Do you 
know what Isaiah says in the twenty-fourth verse 
of the fourteenth chapter? ‘The Lord of hosts 
hath sworn, saying — ’ ” 

“ Oh, my dear Thomas,” interrupted Arminius, 
“ do me the favor to keep still about your Isaiah. 
I was afraid, when I but mentioned the dogma, that 
a quotation would soon follow from some chapter 
or other of the book of Isaiah. I really believe you 
consider the prophet Isaiah the apostle of this par- 
ticular tenet ?” 

“ Yes, but not he alone, Arminius. Oh, if the 
Lord were pleased to open your eyes and to give 
you light, then you would see that doctrine taught 
on every page of holy writ.” 

“ If I looked through your eyes, perhaps I 
should,” remarked Arminius, somewhat sharply. 

Thomas Brully was in doubt whether or not to 
take offence at this jest, for he felt that it might be 
interpreted as an allusion to his being cross-eyed; 
but Walter Harmsen, thinking it time to pacify 
the disputants, said, 


TROUBLESOME COMPANIONS. 


201 


“ Do keep your tempers, my dear friends. Why 
should you allow this profound doctrine to destroy 
good- feeling between you ? My worthy ensign 
here will else wish that he had not made your 
acquaintance.” 

“Do not fear that, dear Walter,” said the soldier. 
“An ensign is accustomed to being placed between 
two fires, and the fire of these gentlemen will not kill 
me, although it bids fair to explode them. We had 
better quench that fire, therefore. — Hallo, Sir Host! 
Bring us some refreshments for these gentlemen. — 
The rain still continues, and so we can afford to stay 
a while longer and talk about old times. Do you 
approve of that, Walter?” 

The latter readily consented to this arrangement; 
Arminius and Brully likewise agreed to the pro- 
posal; and soon our four young friends sat talk- 
ing together as peacefully as if no encounter with 
the two Anabaptists or any friction of doctrinal opin- 
ions had occurred in that room. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A PEEP INTO HISTORY. 

I T is necessary once more to interrupt the course 
of our narrative and remind our readers of the 
condition of the country at this time. 

The year 1579 was one marked by important 
events in the political history of Holland, and, al- 
though we do not presume to arrogate to ourselves 
the exalted office of the historian, we shall endeavor 
to bring to the notice of our readers a few matters 
of special interest that will enable them better to 
understand our story. 

We have already mentioned the siege of Haarlem 
and the successful defence of Alkmaar* in the year 
1573. The spring and summer of 1574 were 
made sadly memorable by the crushing defeat of 
Louis of Nassau, Prince William’s brother, at 
Mookerheide, and the horrible sufferings of the 
citizens of Leyden during the prolonged siege by 
the Spaniards. On October 3, 1 574, Utrecht was hap- 
pily relieved and the Spaniards were forced to retire 
from before its walls. As they left Leyden, on the 
coast, so also were they compelled to leave the heart, 


A PEEP INTO HISTORY. 


203 


of Holland. Nothing memorable in the way of 
military operations occurred for some time after 
this event, but the political, or diplomatic, sagacity of 
William, prince of Orange, was made illustrious by 
the celebrated compact effected among the seventeen 
provinces of the Netherlands, known as the “ Paci- 
fication of Ghent , ” accomplished in the year 1576. 
By this agreement these provinces bound themselves 
to resist the encroachments upon their rights of 
Philip II. of Spain and the cruelties of the popish 
Inquisition. It was no revolutionary instrument ; it 
manifested no intention of casting off allegiance to 
Philip as rightful sovereign over the Low Countries ; 
but it firmly protested against his infringement of 
their time-honored liberties and privileges, which 
he had sworn to maintain. By a strange fatuity, 
however, and an unaccountable blindness to their 
own interests, ten of these provinces, situated in 
the southern portion of the country, withdrew from 
the compact, returned to the bosom of the Roman 
Catholic Church and yielded submission to all that 
the tyranny of Philip chose to dictate to them. 

A braver spirit actuated the people of the North ; 
here William of Orange found a worthy response 
to his efforts to maintain the rights of the Nether- 
land people. Although the Pacification of Ghent 
had proved a failure, he still clung to the idea that 
the best way to oppose tyranny was to bind the 
several provinces together by a closer union ; he 


204 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


labored, therefore, to effect such a union among the 
hardier provinces of the North. After maturing 
his plans he commissioned his brother, Count John 
of Nassau, to consult with the various provincial au- 
thorities and carry these plans into effect. Count 
John’s mission was entirely successful. On the 
29th of January, 1579, the seven little provinces 
of Holland, Zeeland, Utrecht, Gelderland, Overys- 
sel, Groningen and Vriesland entered into a confed- 
eration, binding themselves to stand together as one 
people for ever in defence of their liberties, and to 
bear in common the expenditures necessitated by 
such defence. This confederation is known in 
history as the “ Union of Utrecht” 

A main provision of this union was the free 
exercise of religion. Holland and Zeeland, how- 
ever, might act according to their pleasure in this 
matter — that is, in these provinces the Reformation 
had gained such prevalence that it was a question 
whether it were best to allow the Roman Catholics 
as much liberty in the exercise of their religion as 
heretofore they had enjoyed. Intolerance in re- 
ligion was still the order of the day all the world 
over.* 

This event was followed by important results, 
especially in Utrecht. This province had been an 
episcopal see for centuries ; an entire revolution of 

* William of Orange was in no way responsible for this in- 
tolerant provision. 


A PEEP INTO HISTORY. 


205 


affairs now took place. Zealously Roman Catho- 
lic as Utrecht had been before, the civil authorities 
hastened to exhibit as great a zeal in their adherence 
to the Reformation ; sustained by the general govern- 
ment, called the Estates, or States-General, the mag- 
istrates in the various cities assiduously appointed 
Reformed preachers to their churches. 

The city of Amersfoort, however, had very re- 
luctantly consented to the union ; the magistracy 
was strongly inclined to Roman Catholic inter- 
ests. Some months before the union not a Bible 
had been found in the place. This state of things 
greatly troubled the pious John of Nassau, who 
had been made director of the union. He did not 
share his great brother’s ideas of religious toleration, 
and he felt that he must compel Amersfoort to 
accede to the terms of the union. He proceeded 
to convert the city to his own views of religion 
in the same manner that Charlemagne did with 
the heathen Saxons and Frisians — namely, by means 
of the sword. He garrisoned the city with a con- 
siderable number of troops, introduced the Bible 
into the churches, invited several Reformed preach- 
ers to occupy the pulpits, and thus caused the Ref- 
ormation to achieve at least a seeming triumph. 
These proceedings naturally gave great offence to 
the Roman Catholic clergy, who received bare 
permission to exercise their religion in the chapels 
of monasteries and convents. Much strife and 


206 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


confusion were occasioned. The Roman Catholics, 
naturally enough, were not satisfied with their cur- 
tailed privileges, and the Reformed wanted still 
greater opportunities for spreading their doctrines. 
Amid this condition of affairs occurred the events 
which we shall soon relate.* 

But we must stop a moment longer and tell what 
had been done toward bringing about organization 
and government within the Church. That name, 
as is well known, was arrogated exclusively to 
itself by the Roman Catholic hierarchy. And, 
indeed, the scattered and persecuted masses who 
renounced the errors of Romanism and accepted 
the faith of the Reformers can hardly be considered 
to have constituted a Church for several years after 
the Reformation started upon its glorious career. 
With the Reformers in Holland ecclesiastical or- 
ganization began in 1568, the year which also saw 
the beginning of the Eighty Years’ war of the 
Dutch republic against Spain. A synod com- 
posed of representatives from various localities 
was held in that year at Wenzel, a place beyond 
the jurisdiction of Spain, but near the borders 
of the Netherland provinces. Three years later 
another synod was convened, at Embden, again 
outside of the provinces subject to Spain. But 
in the memorable year 1574 the Synod of the Re- 

* What follows, to the end of this chapter, is additional mat- 
ter by the translator. 


A PEEP INTO HISTORY. 


207 


formed Church in Holland met at Dort, within 
the Fatherland itself. The delegates assembled 
on June 16, and remained in session till June 28. 

It was a dark time in the history of the country. 
The Spaniards were before the city of Leyden. 
The siege had then lasted a month or more, and 
was yet to continue through more than three 
months of the most horrible suffering, while all 
the endeavors of the prince of Orange to relieve 
it were being repeatedly frustrated. Amid these 
events the synod met. It represented the churches 
of only the two provinces of Holland and Zeeland, 
where alone the Reformation had gained the upper 
hand. 

Four years later, in June, 1578, and one year 
before the time that we have now reached in our 
tale, a synod embracing a wider representation was 
again held in the city of Dort. The other might 
be called a provincial synod; this was the first 
National Synod. 

A distinctive form and a definite ecclesiastical or- 
ganization were thus gradually secured. Not only 
had believers become distinguished from the Roman 
Church, but among themselves the Reformers had 
begun to differ. Luther had promulgated some 
doctrines in regard to the sacraments which the 
Reformers of Switzerland and France could not 
accept; hence the followers of the earliest cham- 
pion of the Reformation were called by his name 


208 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


— “ Lutherans ” — and their opponents in Germany 
and other countries assumed the name of “ Re- 
formed.” Confessions and catechisms had been 
constructed in accordance with these views, and 
a great work systematizing the theology of the 
Reformation had been written by John Calvin. 
These synods of Holland ratified the views of 
Calvin and adopted the confessions and catechisms 
of the Reformed as distinguished from the Lutheran. 
They also provided for the government of the 
churches. Boards of elders and deacons were to 
be constituted, and such boards called by the 
name consistoiy.* A number of churches within a 
certain distance of one another were to be collected 
into a body composed of representative elders and 
the pastors of each church, and such body was 
designated a classis . f From these local bodies 
representatives were to meet as synods in various 
provinces, and a National Synod was to be held 
every three years.J 

As we go on with our story the reader will 

* Corresponding with the session of the Presbyterian churches 
in Scotland, Ireland and England. 

f Corresponding with the presbytery of the Presbyterian 
churches in Scotland, Ireland and England. 

t If the reader has any acquaintance with the “ Reformed 
(Dutch) Church in America,” he will observe that these 
names of consistory , classis and synod still prevail within that 
denomination, as also within the “ Reformed (German) Church 
in the United States.” — Translator. 


A PEEP INTO HISTORY. 


209 


understand that the converts from Romanism in 
Holland had indeed become a distinct Church. 
While this necessarily much promoted the advance 
of the Reformed religion, we shall also perceive 
that then, as at all times, too strong a zeal for a 
mere institution, as such, produced much ungen- 
erous intolerance of other views and interference 
with other methods of work. 

14 


CHAPTER XV. 


OLD ACQUAINTANCE RENEWED. 

W E return now to our four young friends in the 
inn, and hasten to satisfy the reader’s pardon- 
able curiosity by giving some particulars as to their 
history and present circumstances. 

It would be difficult to recognize in this brave 
and handsome ensign the kitchen-boy of Egmond, 
or even the proud young sailor who helped to con- 
quer Bossu on the Zuyder Zee, in which capacity 
he last appeared before us. The same intelligence 
sparkled in his eye, but a thoughtful and earnest 
expression now habitually characterized the manly 
countenance. Scars upon cheek and forehead show- 
ed that he had not spared himself in the day of bat- 
tle. From certain words that dropped from his lips 
in his encounter with the Anabaptists, we could 
readily gather that he had completely abandoned 
the doctrines (though not the homely old saws) of 
his former parish priest at Egmond. He had, in- 
deed, heartily accepted the Reformed faith, the fruit 
of the seed planted in the brief but earnest conver- 
sations with Walter Harmsen during their flight 
210 


OLD ACQUAINTANCE RENEWED. 211 


among the sandhills. His promotion to ensign 
was due to his own valor and faithfulness, as well 
as to the favor of the distinguished officer Ruik- 
haver, Walter’s uncle, who took him under his 
special protection and had never found occasion 
to regret his interest in the young man. 

Walter Harmsen, too, was much altered. The 
noble-hearted, pious boy of fourteen years whom 
we first met upon the wheatfields in the vicinity 
of Haarlem had developed into a youth of manly 
proportions. Of a quieter and gentler nature than 
Dirk Gapertz, love was the ruling principle of his 
heart and life. Kindness beamed forth from his 
mild blue eyes and marked all his doings, and he 
wished nothing more fervently than to labor for 
the spread of the kingdom of Him who for the 
love he bore them gave himself over to death to 
save lost sinners. 

The young man at his right with long brown 
locks resting upon his large, pointed collar was 
one whose light-gray eyes betokened an uncommon 
keenness of intellect and ready wit ; in short, there 
was about him an unmistakable air of genius. His 
eyebrows were sharply penciled against the intense 
whiteness of his brows, and his cheek-bones were 
somewhat prominent. This was none other than 
Jacob Hermans — or, as he is widely known in the 
history of theological controversy, Arminius. He 
was at present pursuing his studies at Utrecht. 


212 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


The youth whom Walter Harmsen had described 
as his fellow-boarder and introduced by the name 
of Thomas Brully was of dark complexion, and his 
raven-black hair and smallness of stature showed in 
marked contrast by the side of the fair complexions 
and tall and well-developed persons of his com- 
panions. 

For some time the four friends remained engaged 
in a general conversation, frequently flavored by the 
witty sallies of the light-hearted Arminius ; but, ob- 
serving or surmising that Walter would be glad to 
have an opportunity for private conversation with 
his recovered friend of boyhood days, he linked 
arms with the swarthy Brully and withdrew with 
him into another room. 

As soon as they were alone Dirk said, 

“ Now tell me something about your personal 
history, Walter, since last we met. Is your father 
yet living?” 

An expression of sadness passed for a moment 
over the calm countenance of the young man. 

“ My father,” he said, “ is, alas ! no more. It 
pleased the Lord in his wisdom to take from me 
the guide of my youthful days and to stop the 
zealous evangelist in his work. You know that 
when a boy I was living with my grandfather while 
my father traveled about the country preaching the 
word of God. After the taking of Haarlem, hav- 
ing been driven from our home, we did not settle 


OLD ACQUAINTANCE RENEWED. 213 


anywhere permanently for a while, but about four- 
teen months ago grandfather and I came to live in 
the city of Utrecht.” 

“ Did your father fall into the hands of the In- 
quisition ?” 

“No; while upon one of his preaching-tours he 
was taken with a malignant fever, to which he suc- 
cumbed in a few hours. Of course, Dirk, I do not 
grieve as those who have no hope — I know that his 
soul is at rest in the presence of his Saviour — but 
I cannot tell you how painful his loss is to me. I 
trust to hold him in dearer remembrance by walk- 
ing in his footsteps.” 

“Then you do purpose to become a traveling 
evangelist ?” 

“ Yes, Dirk. Is not the command of Christ 
unmistakable to go forth into all the world and 
preach the gospel to every creature?” 

“ That command is plain enough, dear Walter. 
And for that reason are you living in Utrecht — to 
prepare yourself to become a preacher of the gos- 
pel ? How soon will you be ordained ?” 

“ That is not the way in which I propose to do 
my work, Dirk ; I do not expect to go forth under 
the auspices of the Church. And let me tell you why 
I have been led to choose and pursue a course other 
than the one that is ordinarily followed. I look 
around me and see that our poor country, in spite 
of the light that the Lord has caused to be scattered 


214 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


abroad by means of the Reformation, is still plunged 
for the greater part in deep darkness. The Church 
of Rome does its utmost to recover the souls es- 
tranged from her idolatries; on the other hand, 
among the Reformed all sorts of sects rise up, 
bewildering the minds of the people with many 
absurd, and even outrageous, doctrines. Of these 
the Anabaptists are not the least conspicuous. But 
even those who hold most purely the doctrines of 
the real gospel are sadly at strife among themselves. 
Those who adhere to the Augsburg Confession and 
those who accept the Thirty-seven Articles of the 
Reformed Confession oppose one another with bit- 
terest hostility, instead of unitedly opposing their 
common enemy. Look, for instance, at the case of 
Woerden. That city has become the headquarters 
of the Lutherans in this province ; the chief places 
in the municipal government are in their hands and 
the pulpits are filled with Lutheran preachers, and 
there is very great fear that this city will rise against 
the authorities of the province because the Reformed 
Church is being favored and advanced. Looking 
at these things, I thought I had best keep aloof 
for the present from all parties and not go forth as 
the minister of any Church, committed to the defence 
of any secondary points; I determined to preach 
the gospel in simplicity and singleness of heart. 
With this intent I travel about these regions, enter 
into the people’s houses and preach the truth as it is 


OLD ACQUAINTANCE RENEWED. 215 


in Jesus. This is the work the Lord seems to 
point out to me as mine.” 

“ And does your grandfather agree with you and 
encourage you ?” 

“ No, Dirk, not entirely ; he would much rather 
have me prepare myself for the regular ministry 
and be appointed to some church bv the govern- 
ment. So, to please him — although he knows I 
cannot consent to carry out his ideas — and also 
because I know it will be of great help to me, 
I attend the lectures given by the learned men 
residing in Utrecht. Among these is the cele- 
brated Theodorus Aëmilius, who was a Romish 
priest at Oudewater, but left that place and came 
to live in our city because he could no longer give 
his adherence to the Roman Catholic tenets ; Ar- 
minius and Brully are my fellow-students at his 
lectures. But now tell me: how did you happen 
to be in this neighborhood?” 

“ I am stationed with my regiment at Amers- 
foort, to aid in enforcing the Reformed religion, 
as you may have heard, and I am upon this journey 
because I was entrusted with a letter of instructions 
from the count of Nassau to the magistracy of 
Utrecht.” 

“ Then you will go with us to Utrecht ? I am 
exceedingly rejoiced. You must make our house 
your home during your stay there. We live near 
the bridge.” 


216 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“ I would like nothing better,” replied the officer, 
“ but I shall not be permitted to avail myself of 
your invitation, as my quarters are assigned to 
me. But I will not fail to visit you as frequently 
as the duties of my mission will allow me. But 
where are our friends?” 

“ I do not know. I am afraid that they have 
gotten into some dispute again, for they can hardly 
be ten minutes together before they have a differ- 
ence about some passage of Scripture. Brully is 
of an earnest, straightforward temperament, and 
soon gets angry at the half-jocose manner in which 
Arminius meets his arguments.” 

“ I should think they would occasion you much 
trouble in keeping the peace between them?” 

“ Indeed they do ! If I am not mistaken, I hear 
them coming now.” 

The door opened, and the two persons in question 
entered the room ; the earnest face of Thomas 
Brully was more than usually stern, while a smile 
of mischief and good-nature lit up the features of 
Arminius. Brully was heard to say, 

“ It seems only proper that I should remind you 
of what Isaiah says about you.” 

“About me?” queried Arminius. “I never 
found my name mentioned by that prophet.” 

“ And haven’t you read what he says about those 
who take pleasure in nothing but jesting?” 

“My friends,” said Walter Harmsen, rising to 


OLD ACQUAINTANCE RENEWED. 217 


meet them, “ quit you like wise men and cease 
your disputes ; do not embitter yourselves by these 
sharp contentions. Come ! let us hasten to leave 
this place, for we have a long walk before us. I 
think, too, that the storm has somewhat abated. 

The ensign, who was anxious to reach Utrecht as 
soon as possible, gladly welcomed this proposal, and 
the late disputants willingly consented to address 
themselves once more to the journey. In spite of 
their frequent differences, they were very fond of 
each other, and ere the ensign had paid his reckon- 
ing with mine host they were fully reconciled once 
more. 

The four young men now left the inn, and pro- 
ceeded on their way to Utrecht at a vigorous pace. 
We shall outstrip them, however, and make the 
acquaintance of some people in that city who are 
to play an important part in our story. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


CONSULTATIONS. 

O N the same spot where may now be found the 
“ Vreeburg ” there stood until the year 1577, 
or two years before the beginning of our tale, 
a large castle erected in the year 1534 by the 
emperor Charles V., and named by him “ Vreden- 
burg ” (or “ Castle of Peace ”). In the year 1577 
the citizens of Utrecht attacked the Spanish sol- 
diers who had lodged themselves in the castle, 
compelled them to abandon it aud reduced it to 
a heap of ruins. In the neighborhood of the 
whilom castle stood the monastery of Our Lady, 
and into this building we wish to introduce our 
readers. 

It was late in the afternoon. The faint beams 
of a fast-setting spring sun shone through the high 
window of the vestry and fell upon the face of an 
aged man who sat close by the window, seemingly 
absorbed in the reading of divers books and ancient 
parchments. His eye had an expression of mild- 
ness, although the deep furrows upon his forehead 
gave evidence, if not of much sorrow, at least of 
218 


CONSULTATIONS. 


219 


many cares. He was clothed in the habit of a 
Carmelite monk and had the appearance of a very 
venerable Father. He diligently turned the leaves 
of which the ancient rolls were composed, and after 
placing them upon the broad window-sill he mut- 
tered to himself, 

“ Often as I read these old manuscripts, I cannot 
discover a trace of any command or inference that 
more honor is to be accorded to the Holy Virgin 
Mary than to the Saviour. These manuscripts are 
a copy of the earliest collection of the Scripture- 
books. I know very well that M. Waenders, priest 
of St. Servatius, and the inmates of this house look 
with much disfavor upon my continual rummaging 
among parchments, but, since the archbishop him- 
self has made me superintendent of the library, I 
shall let no one interfere with my researches, es- 
pecially as I daily discover new treasures to gratify 
my thirst for godly knowledge. The more I in- 
vestigate, the more I am confirmed in the opinion 
that my friend Theodorus Aëmilius is correct in 
saying that the Blessed Mary was indeed the 
mother of the Lord, but that there is no author- 
ity whatever for rendering worship to her. For 
this reason all that I observe here in this convent 
and in the other religious houses of a similar char- 
acter begins to look to me like folly, and I cannot 
endure it. But what can an old man such as I do? 
I have indeed spoken against it, but only angry 


220 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


looks on every hand have rewarded my pains, and 
efforts have been made to remove me. During the 
archbishop’s life, however, they dare not molest me. 
Nevertheless, I much desire that I may escape these 
restraints that harass me, and may have more free- 
dom.” 

The monk ceased speaking, but continued to 
commune with himself in silence for some little 
time longer. He then took up the parchments, 
rolled them together, arose and paced the room 
back and forth, continuing his soliloquy as follows : 

u It seems strange, but whenever my thoughts 
turn to my friend Aëmilius I am led to think at 
the same time of a certain person whom I once met 
at his house; his name, I believe, is Harmsen. He 
is fervently attached to the new faith, yet I am con- 
strained to admire the venerable man greatly, and 
my views coincide much more readily with his 
ideas and his conduct than with those of the indo- 
lent priests, who teach the people things which are 
not true for the sake of making gain of them. 
True, I do not as yet quite agree with all that 
Harmsen contends for, but I believe it will do me 
good frequently to seek his society. Aëmilius is in- 
deed a good man, but not quite so straightforward 
and disingenuous; for, while he sometimes talks 
as if he still held firmly with our Church, Harm- 
sen is outspokenly of the opinion that our Roman 
Church has strayed far from the truth. If all the 


CONSULTATIONS. 


221 


Reformed were like the aged Harmsen, I should 
desire nothing so much as to be one of them.” 

The old man again relapsed into silent reflection, 
during which he leaned with his head against a 
wardrobe; he seemed to be seeking wisdom and 
direction how to act. Then, resuming his walk, 
he continued : 

“ That young Walter is the grandson of the old 
man. How amiable a young man he is! He seems 
to be possessed of many novel, and I must say 
noble, ideas. How frankly, yet with what affec- 
tionate interest, and, withal, modesty, did he con- 
verse with me when I met him the other day out* 
side the city ! From what I could gather from his 
words, I judge that he differs somewhat in opinion 
from his grandfather, as well as from the preachers 
Sopingius and Helmichius — that is, he takes a dif- 
ferent view of the necessity of ecclesiastical rela- 
tions. He prefers not to be ordained, but rather to 
do humbly and untrammeled the work of an evan- 
gelist. But it seems that the stand he takes has 
made him enemies. The orthodox Reformed do not 
like him, and all the other sects do what they can 
to obstruct his work. And our Roman Catholic 
Church denounces him as a heretic and feels 
especially bitter toward him because he is more 
successful in winning converts than the others. I 
have noticed that the lord of Vlooswyk has a grudge 
against him, for he comes here frequently and con- 


222 


WALTER HARMSEK 


suits with M. Waenders about plans to injure him. 
I feel greatly for him. May the Lord protect him ! 
Meanwhile, I shall be on my guard and do what I 
can to shield him — or, at least, to warn him when 
any danger threatens him. But what is that?” As 
he spoke the chant of a choir not far distant from 
the vestry was just becoming audible. u Ah ! I 
know,” he said : “ the priests and monks of St. Ser- 
vatius are at vespers. After this some will gather in 
the vestry ; it is time, therefore, that I retire to my 
cell, as I do not wish to be troubled with their con- 
stant reproaches. But I shall first spend an hour 
at my devotions in the adjoining apartment.” 

Having made this decision, the old man placed 
the rolls of parchment in a pocket of his gown and 
withdrew to the next room, which was separated 
from the vestry only by a thin partition. 

At that instant the chapel resounded with the 
loud chant of the monks, and distinctly were heard 
the words of an idolatrous Latin hynm to the Vir- 
gin then frequently sung in the Romish churches, 
beginning: “ Veni, Virgo Virginum,” and reading 
in part as follows : 


“ Come, Virgin of virgins ! 
Come, Light of lights ! 

Come, Vein of veins ! 

Come, Salvation of men ! 
Come, Brightness of the hosts 
Of the celestial army ! 


CONSULTATIONS . 


223 


Come, Branch of Jesse ! 

Come, first of roses — 

Bose without sting of worms !” 

Next there arose a loud murmuring or mumbling, 
as if several men were praying in concert, after 
which a man’s forceful voice sang the Oremus 
hymn, in the course of which a petition was ad- 
dressed to the Lord that “ for the merits and prayers 
of the holy Nicholas he would deliver them from 
the fires of hell.” 

Half an hour later there entered the vestry two 
men who could easily be recognized as belonging to 
the priestly order, as they had not yet divested 
themselves of the surplices in which they had 
conducted the vesper services. They were followed 
by a third person, whose apparel betrayed the noble- 
man. 

“ Come in, Lord John van Vlooswyk,” said one 
of the priests. “ I trust you did not have to wait 
long for us ?” 

The nobleman, whom we have heard addressed as 
Lord John van Vlooswyk, was richly attired ; his 
features were far from expressing the dignity of his 
social station, and perhaps for that reason he deemed 
it the more necessary to announce it by his dress. 
Over a close-fitting garment, or vest, of black vel- 
vet, fastened about the waist with a girdle of twisted 
gold thread, was thrown a fine broadcloth mantle, 
falling in loose folds about the hips. Light-brown 


224 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


leather breeches of a costly quality were secured 
with dark-blue velvet ribbons at the knees, while 
flesh-colored stockings encased the legs. The shoes 
were of the not very elegant pattern in vogue in the 
sixteenth century. A snow-white stiff collar with 
wide puffs surrounded his neck, while a long rapier 
suspended by a heavy silken cord secured at the 
girdle completed the insignia of nobility. 

As the nobleman entered the apartment he 
pressed with his left hand upon his sword-hilt, 
so that its point was lifted up and prevented from 
dangling against his legs in walking. He greeted 
the clergymen with politeness, and said, 

“ Be not at all uneasy on my account, reverend 
sirs. I attended the vesper services; and when I 
saw you entering the vestry-room, I took the liberty 
to follow you. If I am inconveniencing you, how- 
ever, I shall at once take my leave.” 

“ Not at all, noble sir,” replied the older of the 
two priests, a man of rather a spare appearance. 
“On the contrary, we are much rejoiced, as we 
desire to obtain information concerning certain 
matters.” 

“Yes, yes! certain matters,” added the other 
priest, seating himself upon a bench against the 
wall. 

“I can only say, reverend sirs,” replied Lord 
John, “that 1 hope Heaven will be gracious to 
us and favor our plans.” 


CONSULTATIONS. 


225 


“St. Servatius grant it!” said the one priest, 
devoutly. 

“Yes, yes! St. Servatius grant it!” echoed the 
other. 

“ Matters are moving satisfactorily thus far. You 
know how that young heretic constantly visits the 
vicinity of Vlooswyk, and even penetrates my own 
house ; you know how, like a cunning huntsman, 
he sets his snares to entrap my easily-deceived 
Jacoba. I fear, too, that she is more than half 
gained over to his devilish teachings. But I am 
permitting him to go on with his course, intending 
to catch him in his own trap.” 

“That would be a fortunate catch, My Lord,” 
remarked the first priest. 

“ Yes, yes ! a fortunate catch,” added his echo, 
complacently drumming on his corpulent stomach. 

“ As you know, I ordered those two rascals, 
Gysbert Barends and Cornelis Koen, to waylay 
young Harmsen and during the night to bring him 
to this place through the rear-entrance of the con- 
vent-garden ; I think for a while he could be safely 
guarded here. I have, however, some apprehension 
of one difficulty that may arise to interfere with this 
plan.” 

“And what is that?” inquired the lean ecclesiastic. 

“ There is an inn on the road by which Harmsen 
is expected to come, and I doubt much whether 
Koen and Barends will have the firmness to pass 

15 


226 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


that by without quenching their extraordinary 
thirst. Once in that inn, nothing can be done 
with them.” 

“I shall threaten the innkeeper with a heavy 
penance if he permits the fellows to enter his 
place,” observed the priest. 

“Yes, yes!” sounded his echo; “a heavy pen- 
ance.” 

“ You forget, reverend sirs,” continued the noble- 
man, “ that this innkeeper is a heretic also. We 
are surrounded by that vermin on every side ; and 
if Heaven itself help us not, what will become of 
us? Of what avail would your penance be with 
such as he? We must so conduct the affair that 
your names will not be connected with it; at least, 
no one outside these walls must know what is hap- 
pening within them. I have another plan to com- 
municate.” 

The nobleman cast a cautious look around the 
room; the sharp-featured priest interpreted the 
look and replied to its import : 

“Certainly, certainly, noble sir; you can speak 
with safety. We are here alone, and will remain 
silent as the grave.” 

“Yes, yes! silent as the grave,” muttered the 
other. 

At this moment a soft rustling noise was heard 
on the side of the room where the fat priest was 
seated ; and if any one would have looked through 


CONSULTATIONS. 


227 


the partition, he would have perceived the aged 
monk pressing his ear close to the wall, straining 
every nerve to hear what was being said in the 
vestry. 

“ What is that ?” asked the nobleman, alarmed. 
“ Is there any one in the next room ?” 

“ Be not alarmed, Lord van Vlooswyk,” said the 
priest ; “ we are the only persons in this part of the 
building. Perhaps it was a falling piece of plaster- 
ing or mortar.” 

“ One cannot be too careful,” said the nobleman, 
reassured, while the lean priest and he took their 
places upon the bench beside the fat brother. “ I 
had thought that if those two fellows should not 
succeed in capturing the young heretic, perhaps we 
might gain the same end, and more besides, by in- 
stigating a riot in the city.” 

“ But how is that to be effected? Our power 
decreases daily.” 

“ Yes, yes ! decreases daily,” muttered the echo, 
who was being fast overpowered by slumber and 
could hardly keep his eyes open. 

“ Listen,” continued His Lordship. “ You know 
that John of Nassau has forcibly introduced the 
public exercise of the heretical religion at Amers- 
foort, and you are of course aware that not only at 
Amersfoort, but also in this city, many are greatly 
offended at this villainous conduct. I had a call 
yesterday from Dr. William van der Eyke, the 


228 


WALTER HARMSEX 


most eloquent and influential of our priests, and he 
told me in very vehement language of his purpose 
at the very first opportunity to call the attention of 
the faithful to this arbitrary action ; I was, of course, 
greatly delighted with this resolution of his. But 
this is not enough : the people must be aroused, and 
all the priests and preachers of our holy Church must 
combine in denouncing the tyranny of the Re- 
formed. I have formed a plan in connection with 
such a movement on the part of the ecclesiastics. 
I will go to the camp of the Anabaptists and 
arrange with John Williams to furnish me, in con- 
sideration of a large sum of money, with a number 
of men whom I may make use of without its being 
known that I have anything to do with them. As 
soon as the people shall have been stirred up to a 
suitable pitch of excitement by the assurance that 
many privileges will be restored to them if they 
unite and overturn the present state of things, I 
will make a beginning of the revolutionary move- 
ment by means of these Anabaptists ; and should I 
succeed in shifting the scene of the riot to the 
vicinity of the Smede bridge, then it would not be 
difficult so to manage it that a certain house shall be 
attacked and certain persons be killed. What think 
you of this plan ?” 

“ I think it excellent,” replied the lean priest, 
“ and you need not fear but that we will do our 
share.” 


CONSULTATIONS . 


229 


u Yes, yes !” repeated the fat brother, who had 
begun to nod occasionally ; “ do our share.” 

u It would be a glorious thing to achieve, ” con- 
tinued Lord John, who, actuated by a desire for 
personal revenge, sought to stir up the zeal of the 
priests and scrupled not at the means wherewith to 
do so — “a glorious thing; for thus the heretics 
would be destroyed at a single blow and their evil 
designs nipped in the bud. And what do you sup- 
pose these designs are? I have learned that the 
Reformed intend to plunder the St. Nicholas and 
other churches, to desecrate the altars, remove the 
images of the saints and convert these buildings 
to their own use.” 

“St. Servatius preserve us!” exclaimed the 
priest. “ Who ever could have conceived such 
an outrage? Surely the magistracy will not permit 
this ? I know that heresy is daily on the increase 
and has won over perhaps a majority of the citizens, 
but no one will venture to violate the privileges guar- 
anteed to us by the union. Are you quite sure that 
you have been correctly informed, noble sir?” 

“ Yes, yes !” echoed the other, now wide awake ; 
“ correctly informed ?” 

“ I am assured of it,” persisted the nobleman, who 
had not counted on this incredulity, and must now 
plunge more deeply into falsehood to make it seem 
more like truth. “ I am sure of it, since I know that 
Helmichius is a party to these designs. I am told 


230 


WALTER HARMS EN. 


that even the prince of Orange, otherwise so cau- 
tious in matters of this kind, intends ere long to 
come to this city to consult about it with the 
directors of the union, and I have evidence that 
John of Nassau has a hand in it ; for there is now 
in town one of his officers, who is to take command 
of the troops of the garrison and employ their aid 
forcibly to close the Romish churches and drive out 
the priests. I am on my guard against this John 
of Nassau ; he never was a friend of mine, and I 
have some suspicion that he is not wholly ignorant 
of the fate of the man whom we have in our keep- 
ing here.” 

“ What fearful things are these !” exclaimed the 
priest, clenching his fist. u This must not hap- 
pen !” 

“ And this will happen if two things are not 
attended to by you and me.” 

“ And what are they ?” 

“ First, to rouse the people and call them to 
arms, which must be done by you ecclesiastics; 
and secondly, to overthrow and make way with 
the ringleaders: I will take care of that.” 

“ I fully agree with you, and we will second your 
endeavors.” 

“ Meantime, it would give me great pleasure if 
you would visit my house. Poor Jacoba is carried 
almost entirely away by this heretic’s teaching; I 
would send her off to a convent were it not that 


CONSULTATIONS. 


231 


I have sworn an oath to superintend her education 
in my own home. She is little more than a child, 
and her heart is very susceptible to right direction. 
Will you come and speak with her, and seek to 
reclaim her if possible?” 

“Assuredly, noble sir. Nothing will be more 
agreeable than to seek to shatter these chains of 
error by which she is held. You may count on 
our fidelity.” 

“ I wish those two Anabaptist scoundrels were 
here,” remarked the lord of Vlooswyk ; “ they 
ought to be here by this time. But do I not hear 
some one approaching?” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


A FORMIDABLE DWARF. 

HE quick ear of the nobleman had not deceived 



him : the footsteps of some one rapidly ap- 
proaching were distinctly audible. Soon the door 
opened and a person of very singular appearance 
entered the room. He was of a height no greater 
than that of a good-sized boy of twelve years, but his 
features plainly indicated a mature age. His face 
was smooth-shaven, but along the cheeks and under 
the chin there were unmistakable traces of a beard 
suppressed with difficulty. The eyes showed great 
vivacity and acuteness ; the thin lips, the upturned 
nose and the broad chin signified an inclination to 
waggery as well as a capacity for pride. Although 
his arms might be considered somewhat long, they 
were not badly out of proportion to the other mem- 
bers, and, while the man was undoubtedly a dwarf, 
there was nothing deformed or repulsive about his 
person. 

In spite of the seriousness of the affairs under 
discussion between the occupauts of the apartment, 


A FORMIDABLE DWARF. 


233 


the sudden entrance of this strange manikin caused 
an involuntary smile. 

“ What do you wish, Jorisken ?” inquired the 
priest, mockingly. 

“ With your permission, reverend sir,” replied 
the little man, drawing himself up to his full 
height, “my name is Joris , and the diminutive 
was not applied to me when I was baptized in the 
St. James church on St. Martin’s day of the year 
1547.” 

This outburst of offended pride so greatly excited 
the risibles of the ecclesiastics and the nobleman 
that they laughed outright. 

“ I repeat once more,” said the priest, forcing 
himself to speak with sobriety, “ what do you 
wish ? If you do not answer me at once, I shall 
order you to leave the room.” 

“ I shall tell you what I wish : I am looking for 
my master, Father Boniface. As for your orders, 
I shall decline receiving any from you, since His 
Eminence the Archbishop has appointed me solely 
to service in the library.” 

“ Oh, indeed !” observed the priest, contemptuously ; 
“you belong to the library. Therefore, as Father 
Boniface is not in this room, my little man, you 
may depart.” 

“That I will do whenever it pleases me,” replied 
the dwarf, in a towering rage. 

“ You surely dare not continue to address such 


234 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


language to an ordained priest ?” said the zealous 
nobleman, angered by the little man’s pride and 
insolence. 

“ An ordained priest,” sharply retorted Joris, as 
little daunted by the nobleman as by the other, 
“ should know how to render respect to whom re- 
spect is due.” 

“ Are you, then, so honorable a personage?” in- 
quired Lord John. 

“I think that I ought at least to be treated with 
the respect due me.” 

Lord John could no longer control his temper. 
Ascertaining by a look that the action had the 
approval of the priests, he seized Joris by the 
arms, above the elbows, lifted him from his feet, 
and, in spite of the most violent efforts on the 
dwarf’s part to release himself, set him in the 
passageway and quietly bolted the door after him. 

“ You shall pay for this, Lord van Vlooswyk,” 
shrieked the assistant of Father Boniface, striking 
his fist against the door. “ You shall soon find out 
what it means to insult Joris Ruikmans !” He 
then withdrew, but as he went the sound of one 
growling under his breath was still for a few 
moments audible. 

“He is an insolent little fellow, Your Reverence,” 
remarked the noble. 

“He is indeed; his boldness and pride know no 
bounds. Were it not that we pity his weakness, and 


A FORMIDABLE DWARF. 


235 


that he is under Father Boniface’s special protection, 
I assure you we would long ago have rid ourselves 
of him.” 

“ Yes, yes ! have rid our — ” 

But the echo was this time left incomplete, for 
the fat priest had now wholly succumbed to sleep, 
and an occasional snore alone announced his pres- 
ence. The sun, too, had now set, and the priests 
and their visitor could but faintly distinguish one 
another in the fast-failing light. 

“ I am sorry that we were thus disturbed in our 
conversation, but let us dismiss the manikin from 
our minds. I wish these two Anabaptists would 
make their appearance and report what they have 
done, for I want” — and here he bent toward the 
priest and whispered in his ear — “ to make a visit 
to—” 

“ Whom do you mean, noble sir ?” inquired the 
other, feigning ignorance. 

“ The man down in the subterranean vault.” 

“Your broth—” 

“ Hush ! do not speak that w r ord,” said the noble, 
pointing to the fat priest. “ That name must never 
pass our lips.” 

“ His Reverence is fast asleep,” said the priest, 
with a sneer, “ and you have nothing to fear here. 
No one can hear us.” 

“ Nevertheless, we cannot be too cautious. My 
honor, my fortune and my happiness depend upon 


236 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


this secret being kept, and your own gain is involved 
in it. Here is the money you are accustomed to 
receive from me monthly.” So saying, he handed 
the priest some gold-pieces, which the latter immedi- 
ately hid within the pocket of an inner vestmeut. 

“ You are right, noble lord,” assented the priest; 
‘fit must remain our secret. Now tell me why you 
wish to visit his cell.” 

u I want to press him once more to relinquish his 
dignities and possessions in my favor. If he re- 
fuses — Well, no sounds can penetrate the walls 
of his dungeon. I believe that you and I are per- 
fectly justified in keeping him in confinement. On 
the one hand, he is an apostate to our holy mother 
Church; on the other hand, he abused his riches 
in furthering heresy. I will tell him that he has 
already been declared dead in the state records, and 
that I, as his daughter’s guardian, shall marry her 
and keep control over her possessions. I desire 
him to furnish me with some token that I may 
use to prove that such marriage is in accordance 
with his dying wish, but it is difficult to persuade 
him to this.” 

“At least, our efforts have thus far been in vain. 
But suppose you promise him his freedom ?” 

“ ‘ His freedom ’ ! ” exclaimed the noble. “ What 
are you thinking of, Your Reverence?” 

“ Do you not reflect,” rejoined the priest, “ that 
promising and fulfilling are two different things ? 


A FORMIDABLE DWARF. 237 

You may, to obtain your desire, promise him that 
which prudence will compel you to postpone.” 

“Very true,” said Lord John, receiving this 
piece of deep-dyed villainy as a revelation. “ I 
shall be guided entirely by your wisdom and advice. 
But let us now go to him. The night-bell has 
rung; all is quiet in the convent, and we shall 
meet no one on our way. No one but you knows 
where he is confined ?” 

“ Certainly not. In the first place, I alone know 
of the existence of the subterranean passage ; and, 
besides, I carry the key constantly, and he receives 
food and drink from no other hand than mine.” 

“And this one?” inquired the noble, pointing to 
the sleeping priest. 

“He? He knows nothing of the whole affair. 
And if he did, it would do us no harm : he is but my 
shadow. The only man of whom I have any fear, 
and on whose account we cannot be too circumspect, 
is Father Boniface. I shall go now and fetch our 
disguises. We will let our worthy brother sleep 
on ; he will find his way to his cell when he 
awakes.” 

The priest was about to take the lead in leaving 
the room, when he heard the sound of footsteps 
upon the street outside the building. He stepped 
to the window, and, seeing the forms of two men 
whom he supposed to be the two Anabaptists, he 
called Lord John. The latter at once recognized 


238 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


the pot-fellows of the Vrede inn, and went out to 
learn what they had to report. A quarter of an 
hour later the nobleman re-entered the vestry, when 
the two partners in villainy left the apartment, going 
to the east side of the church. 

A few moments afterward a slight noise was 
heard in the room adjoining the vestry, and soon 
a small door was opened, through which Father 
Boniface made his way, entering the vestry as 
softly as he could. Passing the still-sleeping form 
of the fat priest, he left the vestry and carefully 
felt his way down the narrow steps leading to the 
body of the convent-chapel. He had descended but 
few of the steps when he felt a cold hand grasp his 
and heard a voice, which he at once recognized as 
Joris’s, whisper, 

“ Keep hold of my hand, and I will guide you 
there.” 

“ Whither ?” inquired Boniface. 

“ After those two good-for-nothings, who un- 
doubtedly are bent upon some deviltry. Don’t 
you hear them ? Or look : yonder you may now 
see the light of their lantern. Come along with 
me ; I know every nook and corner, and can find 
my way in the dark just as well as by daylight. 
Only hold my hand.” 

Father Boniface and Joris slowly descended the 
stone steps, and soon reached a narrow passage 
which led back of the altar, to the centre of the 


A FORMIDABLE DWARF. , 


239 


chapel. For a while they could see the faint 
glimmer of the lantern ahead of them, but sud- 
denly it disappeared and they were in total dark- 
ness. 

“Where now?” asked Boniface, in a whisper, 
clinging to the hand of Joris. 

“ Let me go and find out, Your Reverence,” said 
the dwarf ; and, going forward a few steps, he bent 
down and placed his ear to the stone floor. “ I 
hear them,” he whispered ; “ they went to the east, 
where the little court is. Follow me;” and, again 
taking the hand of his master, he conducted him to 
the place toward which he had heard the footsteps 
proceeding. 

On reaching the east wall of the chapel, they 
found a door which led to a little court. Opening 
this door, the cool night-air blew upon them, and, 
hastening across the court, they came to the open- 
ing of a deep vault which had formerly been used 
as a burying-place for the monks. Descending a 
few steps, they stood within this vault, and would 
have been compelled to abandon their pursuit, as 
there seemed no other outlet than the opening 
through which they had just entered it, had not 
the quick eye of Joris detected a ray of light shin- 
ing through a small chink on the left side. He 
went directly to it, and found that it was a door, 
which incautiously had been left the merest crack 
ajar. Pushing it open softly, he saw the light re- 


240 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


fleeted along the sides of a long passageway. 
Entering this, Father Boniface and the dwarf 
carefully followed. But suddenly the light van- 
ished again, and at the same time they heard a door 
closed, behind which it and its bearer evidently had 
disappeared. On arriving at this door they found 
that its planks had shrunk so as to part into great 
seams here and there ; so that, though no objects 
could be clearly discerned through it, every sound 
within was readily conveyed to the listening pair. 

The aged Father Boniface was not at all at his 
ease to find himself in this situation. More than 
once he had intimated to Joris that he wished to go 
back, because he thought it beneath his dignity to 
ferret out the designs of evil-doers in just this way; 
but he was urged by Joris to proceed, for the dwarf's 
heart burned witli the desire for revenge, and he 
thought he saw in this exploit the chance to dig a 
pit for those who had insulted him. The worthy 
old man also was so flrmly convinced that there 
was some crime in which these two bad men were 
partners that he deemed it his duty to learn just 
what that crime was, that thus perhaps he might 
obtain the means of frustrating their evil designs. 

For a long time the two listened with the greatest 
intentness, and what they heard was more than 
sufficient to fill them with deep abhorrence for 
Lord John van Vlooswyk and the priest. Unwill- 
ing to hear more, and having now ample proof of 


A FORMIDABLE DWARF. 


241 


their rascality as well as a knowledge of the place 
where their victim was kept, Father Boniface drew 
Joris away, and they returned hastily, but noise- 
lessly, along the way by which they had come. 
And they were but just in time, for scarcely had 
they entered the chapel when they heard the noble 
and the priest closing the door in the vault. Has- 
tily concealing themselves behind a massive pillar, 
they allowed the plotters to pass by, and saw them 
enter the vestry. 

“ The reprobates !” muttered the dwarf. “ Did 
you hear how Lord John beat the prisoner with his 
chains and what fearful oaths he uttered ?” 

“ I heard it all/ 7 sighed Boniface, “ and I wonder 
that God can permit it. Alas for the sorrows in- 
flicted upon men by their fellows !” 

“ God will not permit it much longer, then,” said 
the dwarf. “As sure as my name is Joris Ruik- 
mans, I shall find means to reach the prisoner and 
deliver him from these villains.” 

“How will you bring that about, Joris? You 
are but a weak little creature.” 

“ Leave that to me, worthy Father. I heard them 
say that they would return after a few days, and if 
he did not do what they wished him to do they would 
do with him what they thought best. I shall take 
care that before that time the prisoner shall be de- 
livered from this dungeon.” 

“Be careful, Joris; you do not know the power 
16 


242 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


which these men possess. I had better go to the 
archbishop ; he will find a way to open this prison.” 

“ I believe, reverend sir,” replied the little man, 
“ that you cherish a vain hope. The archbishop is 
indeed a good man, but he is an invalid and much 
of the time incapable of attending to business. 
Besides, his influence is on the wane; and then, 
too, for the sake of shielding the reputation of the 
clergy, he would do all in his power to cover up 
this crime rather than expose Father Waenders to 
the contempt of the citizens. I think we shall have 
to work out this plan of deliverance ourselves, and 
not let any one know what we have seen and heard 
this evening.” 

Boniface saw that Joris was in the right. He 
and his assistant separated, each seeking his sleep- 
ing-apartment ; but Joris spent much of the night 
contriving what he should do to accomplish his 
purpose. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


DIFFERENCES OF OPINION. 

1VTEAR the old Smede bridge, in the city of 
Utrecht there stood at the time of this history 
a very neat dwelling-house constructed according to 
an ancient style of architecture. The front door 
was half open, and on the evening of the same day 
upon which the events of the few preceding chap- 
ters occurred two young men were standing upon the 
stoop. They held each other’s hand, and seemed 
upon the point of parting. 

“And so you remain still of the same opinion, 
Walter?” said the one who stood the farther away 
from the house. 

“ Why do you ask this so often, dear Arminius ? 
I repeat what I told you a moment ago ; our con- 
versation has become longer and more serious than I 
expected. But I am looked for at home. I shall 
remember your words so frankly spoken ; and 
when we meet again, I hope to show you the error 
of your views by the light of Scripture. One thing 
I want to say in parting : I wish you could consent 
not to be wise above what is written in God’s word. 
Good-bye !” 


243 


244 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


Walter pressed the young student’s hand, and 
Arminius, with a light-hearted “ Good-night ” upon 
his lips, turned, passed the long Smede street, and 
took the way to the Jufferen street, where he boarded 
at the house of Father Theodorus Aërailius. 

Jacob Hermans — or Arminius, as his name was 
Latinized, after the fashion of the times — owed his 
earliest instructions to this priest. After the death 
of Aëmilius, Arminius betook himself to Marburg, 
where he met with much support in his peculiar 
views from the celebrated scientist Rudolph Snellius. 
Occasionally, however, he returned to the Father- 
land, studied at the newly-founded university at 
Leyden, and was finally sent, at the expense of the 
city of Amsterdam, to Geneva, to pursue his studies 
there. Early in the seventeenth century he became 
professor of theology at Leyden, promulgated phases 
of doctrine opposed to Calvinism and gave occasion 
to the great controversy — political as well as ecclesi- 
astical — which culminated politically in the death of 
John of Barneveld and ecclesiastically in the 
famous Synod of Dort. These world-renowned 
events, however, took place long after Arminius’s 
death, which occurred in the year 1609. 

Walter, left alone, entered the dwelling. He had 
hardly crossed the threshold when the barking of a 
dog was heard, and a poodle which had evidently 
reached a great age came growling toward Walter. 
But as soon as the half-blind animal discerned that 


DIFFERENCES OF OPINION. 


245 


it was his master his barking and growling changed 
into a joyous yelp, while he tried in vain to jump 
up and greet him as in his younger days. 

“ It is I, Pol, my dear old fellow ! And are you 
so glad to see me ? So am I to see you, Pol and 
he gently stroked the poodle’s hairy back. “ But 
come, Pol ; let us go in.’’ 

Walter went in, while Pol followed him to the 
sitting-room, where Walter’s grandfather was busy, 
together with Thomas Brullv, in reading the Script- 
ures by the light of a hanging-lamp. As Walter 
entered the room the aged Harmsen looked up, and, 
perceiving that it was his grandson, said, 

“ I really began to be uneasy about you, Walter. 
Our friend Thomas Brully is more than an hour 
home. Where did you stay so long?” 

“ I was detained by a long conversation with 
Arminius; but, besides that, I had a conference 
with a friend whom I supposed a long time dead, 
and whom I unexpectedly met this noon.” 

“I know who it is, Walter, and am greatly 
rejoiced that you have found this whilom kitchen- 
boy in good health and in high favor. But espe- 
cially gratifying must it have been to you, my son, 
when you, as Thomas Brully has told me, were 
enabled to gather from his conduct and conversa- 
tion that the Lord had delivered him from dark- 
ness and called him into the kingdom of the Son 
of his love. But why did you not bring him with 


246 


WALTER HA EMS EN. 


you ? You know how great an interest I take in 
your friends, and especially in one who is from the 
neighborhood of Haarlem, whence I always eagerly 
look for news.” 

“ Gladly would I have done so, but he was pressed 
for time; for he was to report himself before night 
at the house of Mr. Goert van Reede, head-sheriff 
of the city, to whom he was carrying a letter from 
Count John of Nassau. Arminius and I conducted 
him to the house, but I obtained from him a prom- 
ise that he would spend to-morrow afternoon with 
us — that is, if his duties did not call him else- 
where.” 

“ Did he not arrange with Arminius to take a 
walk early to-morrow morning to visit the environs 
of the city?” asked Thomas Brully. 

“ I believe so. And, by the way, that reminds 
me of a request that he wished me to make of you 
— if you will be so kind as to bring a Bible to him 
at the house of Mr. Goert van Reede this evening.” 

“ With great pleasure,” replied his friend ; and, 
taking a Bible from the table, he arose and left the 
room. 

“ I cannot account it evil in you, Walter,” said the 
old man, “ that you should have left your grand- 
father in suspense for a few hours for the sake of a 
dear friend, but now that you have come I expect 
you to tell me something about your labors at 
Vlooswyk. Did you see Jacoba to-day ?” 


DIFFERENCES OF OPINION. 


247 


A quick blush spread over the young man’s face 
but fortunately the old man could not perceive this, 
because Walter stood in the shade of the lamp. He 
speedily recovered his composure, however, and, 
seating himself upon a chair by the side of his 
grandfather, replied, 

“ No ; I did not meet the heiress of Vlooswyk 
to-day.” 

“Then your journey thither was fruitless?” 

“ I cannot say that. But listen as I tell you this 
day’s experiences. Arminius and Thomas Brully 
had planned, as you know, to visit Amersfoort in 
order to witness with their own eyes the change in 
favor of the Reformation which had there taken 
place; I joined them in order to have their com- 
pany as far as Vlooswyk. I visited many homes 
of the peasantry, and was rejoiced to notice the 
prosperity which the Lord has accorded to my 
labors. Toward noon I took the road to Castle 
Ter Heide, which had been fixed upon among us 
as a rendezvous for the return home ; but a heavy 
shower compelled me to look about for shelter. I 
was fortunate in soon discovering a farmhouse, 
and I took refuge at once in the adjoining barn. I 
found, however, that I was not the only one who 
had there been accommodated. My place in the 
barn gave me the opportunity of hearing all that 
was said in the sitting-room, and, although I did 
my utmost not to play the part of an eavesdropper, 


248 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


I could not prevent myself from overhearing the 
conversation in the next room.” 

“And did you recognize the persons engaged in 
this conversation?” 

“I knew at once who they were, from their 
voices. They were the preachers Nicholas Sopin- 
gius and Wernerus Helmichius.” 

“Ha! My dear friends the preachers appointed 
by the magistrates to minister to the Reformed con- 
gregation in the city. No wonder you knew them 
at once. And what were they discussing?” 

“I was compelled, as I said, to listen for some 
time ; then, feeling that it was not right to remain 
longer an unseen auditor, I left the barn and entered 
the house.” 

“ And how did they receive you ?” 

“ At first they were very cordial, but we had 
scarcely conversed for half an hour when their 
cordiality grew appreciably less.” 

“And what was the cause of this?” inquired 
Walter’s grandfather, in surprise. 

“ Oh, our different ways of looking at things. 
To my sorrow, I was again forced to observe that 
religious questions, instead of uniting men’s hearts, 
sometimes only estrange them from one another. 
Sopingius was much more reasonable than Hel- 
michius, for, although the former insisted much on 
his ecclesiastical views, he nevertheless rejoiced that, 
in whatever way, souls were made acquainted with 


DIFFERENCES OF OPINION. 


249 


the truth. Helmichius, on the contrary, was too 
passionate to judge impartially ; he called me fool- 
hardy, an introducer of novelties, and more of the 
same sort.” 

“ Those were hard words, Walter.” 

u Yes, and I took the liberty of quoting what 
Paul wrote to Timothy : ‘ And the servant of the 
Lord must not strive ; but be gentle unto all men, 
apt to teach, patient . 7 But this seemed only to make 
matters worse. Helmichius declared that he was a 
preacher called of God to the office and its func- 
tions, and as such he could not approve of my 
labors. I told him that I equally felt called of 
God to preach the gospel, and that, though there 
were slight differences of opinion, this ought not 
to prevent our working together for the spread 
of God 7 s kingdom . 77 

“ And what could they reply to that ?” 

“Sopingius partially agreed with me, but Hel- 
michius persisted in affirming that as long as I held 
aloof from an ecclesiastical connection he would not 
labor with me, and he impatiently rose and left the 
room, saying that he would have nothing more to 
do with me.” 

“ You have, then, made another enemy. I am 
afraid you will eventually get all Utrecht against 
you, my son . 77 

“ Possibly, but I will not complain if it is simply 
the Helmichian Utrecht. It is a sad thing when 


250 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


men strive more to build up a Church than to ad- 
vance the cause of Christ. If Helmichius really 
loved souls, what would it matter to him how they 
were led to Christ and blessed with his salvation ?” 

“You are severe in your judgment, my son. 
You have no right to say that he, and others like 
him, have more regard for the Church than for the 
saving of souls. I believe that they follow the path 
of good order in their zeal for fixed and definite 
churchly institutions. Of course they and Hel- 
michius should exhibit more of the spirit of love. 
But really, Walter, you cannot continue upon this 
way that you have marked out for yourself ; you 
will soon stand all alone, and you will be as Ishmael, 
whose hand was against every man, and every man’s 
hand against him.” 

“I am deeply grieved, dear grandfather, that 
you, whom I love so dearly, do not sympathize 
with me ; yet even this cannot shake my firm con- 
viction that to this particular work — the work of 
an evangelist, as Paul himself distinguishes it — I 
am called. ‘ Woe is me if I preach not the gos- 
pel !’ And I believe, too, that there are both a 
place and a necessity for just this untrammeled, un- 
pretending evangelistic work among the masses who 
are still under the spell of Rome. When great 
numbers shall have been brought to the light and 
the Reformation has spread over the land, there will 
then be great necessity for orderly institutions, and 


DIFFERENCES OF OPINION. 


251 


let some labor at perfecting these now if they will. 
But let me do my work and they theirs, and unit- 
edly let us advance the blessed kingdom. But why 
should we denounce and oppose one another and 
confound the minds of the simple ?” 

“ Poor Walter !” sighed the old man, shaking his 
head ; “ how I tremble for you ! The times are not 
yet ripe for such ideas, and you will be misunder- 
stood. I am too old to hope to see the times grow 
different, and so I foresee for you nothing but oppo- 
sition and persecution. You will be a rock of of- 
fence to all parties. Passion will take the place of 
reason, and enmity that of charity ; and I fear you 
will soon follow your dear father to the grave.” 

“ You picture my future in rather dismal colors, 
grandfather, and I am afraid there is much truth in 
what you say ; but my firm trust is in Christ. Let 
the world, even though it be the ecclesiastical world, 
forsake me ; the Lord will be near. He sees and 
knows my heart.” 

The old man was about to reply, when Pol began 
to growl, and some one was heard at the front door. 
Walter left the room, and, returning after a few 
moments, said, 

"It is a note or message handed to me by what 
seemed to be a boy of about twelve years. But I 
could not tell in the darkness.” 

"And how does it read ?” 

“ ‘ Beware of the two priests of the convent of 


252 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


Our Lady, who have planned with Lord van 
Vlooswyk to make attempts upon your liberty or 
your life/ Your prophecy seems really hastening 
to its fulfillment,” said Walter, laying the mis- 
sive upon the table. “ That the Lord van Vloos- 
wyk is my enemy I can readily comprehend, but 
why the two priests have anything against me I do 
not see, for I am not even acquainted with them.” 

“Such enemies are the most dangerous, Walter; 
we can be on our guard against an open foe. Yet 
I cannot say that we are wholly unacquainted with 
the priests, for I lately met the librarian of the 
convent at the house of Aëmilius, and he spoke 
of them.” 

“ Father Boniface, do you mean ?” 

“The same. And I should not be at all sur- 
prised if this warning came from him.” 

“Well, I shall not despise the warning, and 
shall be as cautious as possible. But over-against 
all enemies, seen or unseen, known or unknown, my 
Refuge is Christ, my Strength and my Redeemer.” 

Walter and his grandfather continued their con- 
versation until the return of Thomas Brully. They 
then all partook of a frugal meal, and after a season 
spent in family worship they separated and retired 
to rest. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE CAMP OF THE ANABAPTISTS. 
SHORT ride by carriage or on horseback or a 



-TX 110 t too fatiguing walk to the east of Utrecht 
brings one to the beautiful little village of Zeist, 
surrounded by undulating heaths and woods of 
fir trees. In former days this village was of much 
greater size and importance than at present ; many 
seats of noblemen were found in the vicinity, among 
which Rysenburg and Karsbergen were not the 
least considerable. In the year 1428 the village 
was plundered by the insurrectionary people of the 
neighboring province of Gelderland and every house 
razed to the ground, and it was a full century 
before it recovered its previous prosperity. 

At the time of our tale there was at a distance 
of about two miles from the castle of Karsbergen 
an extensive sandy plain so hidden among hills 
covered with woods of evergreens that it was not 
easily discovered by the chance traveler. On the 
morning of the day after the encounter in the Vrede 
inn a visit to this sandy plain would have revealed 
an interesting scene. In its centre stood a large 


253 


254 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


tent surrounded by twenty to thirty smaller ones. 
The large tent was constructed of blue-colored 
fabric; high above its peak fluttered a white ban- 
ner bearing the device of a castle with the words 
“ Zion’s Fortress” inscribed beneath. The other 
tents were of ordinary canvas. No one was to be 
seen moving among the tents ; so that the visitor 
might readily have come to the conclusion that 
they were uninhabited. Could his penetrating glance 
have thoroughly scrutinized the edge of the woods, 
however, he would have discovered that at brief 
intervals men lay concealed beneath the underbrush. 
They were evidently on the watch for any intru- 
sion on that side, and prepared to dispute the ap- 
proach of strangers. 

Silence reigned throughout the camp ; so perfect 
was the quiet that rested upon the plain that the 
occasional spears of grass, refreshed by the abun- 
dant rain of the previous day and quickened by the 
rising sun, seemed scarce to feel the breath of the 
morning breeze that was moving over the hills and 
agitating the snow-white banner. Suddenly, how- 
ever, this profound silence was broken. A strong 
voice, apparently proceeding from the principal 
tent, began to sing the first slow notes of a solemn 
hymn, and no sooner had these notes become audible 
in the surrounding tents than on every side voices 
were heard to join in the measured hymn or chant, 
until the whole plain resounded with the singing. 


THE CAMP OF THE ANABAPTISTS. 255 


Even at a distance one would have at once con- 
cluded that this was a religious song. It was set 
to the music of Claude Goudimel,* being sung in 
four parts. If our supposed visitor had come suf- 
ficiently near, he would have distinguished the fol- 
lowing words, adapted from the forty- fifth psalm : 

“ The King rides forth in majesty, 

And speaketh words of clemency ; 

The nations all shall he subdue. 

His arrows sharp their mark attain, 

On Zion he as King shall reign, 

And none his mighty arm eschew.” 

For more than an hour hymns like this rose from 
every tent in the camp ; then the former silence pre- 
vailed for a brief season, only to be succeeded, how- 
ever, by a noise and uproar hardly to be expected in 
so solitary a place and after such solemn and devout 
an exercise of song. Amid this uproar the folds 
of the tents were thrown aside, and several men 
and women made their appearance. They waved 
their arms wildly and acted as if they were hasten- 
ing to battle, while they called to one another re- 
sponsively : 

“ Death and destruction to all those who dwell 

* Claude Goudimel was born near Avignon, France, about 
1510, and perished at Lyons, a St. Bartholomew victim, on 
August 24, 1572. In 1565 he published a collection of vocal 
pieces, a setting of the celebrated French version of the psalms' 
by Marot and Beza. It is written in four parts, the melody 
being assigned to the tenor. — Translator. 


256 WALTER HARMSEN. # 

not in Zion ! Death and destruction to all who 
baptize children, to all priests and preachers ! 
Death and destruction to all magistrates and earth- 
ly potentates ! ” 

After this other voices were again heard to sing 
in a somewhat different measure: 

“ Only we God’s people are ; 

Naught for earth’s proud kings we care, 

But to Zion’s King are loyal. 

He bestows true liberty, 

And conducts us safe till we 
Dwell within his palace royal.” 

The last line had scarcely been sung when the loud 
and uproarious shouting was resumed. 

This seemed to conclude the morning devotions 
of the Anabaptists, for it was a camp of these 
peculiar people that we have been describing. 
Now there appeared a multitude of men, women 
and children armed with various cooking-utensils 
or carrying articles of food ; they all repaired to a 
small open space which evidently served as the 
open-air kitchen for the whole camp. Soon a bright 
fire blazed; pots and kettles were brought into 
requisition, and, while some of the women busied 
themselves with kneading the dough, preparatory 
to bread-baking, a number of the men arranged a 
temporary framework for suspending the spit. 

All the women were busily occupied with the 


THE GAMP OF THE ANABAPTISTS. 257 


preparations for the morning meal, except one, who 
sat quietly and alone at the entrance of one of the 
tents. Her countenance was pale and bore evidences 
of great suffering. She could not have been more 
than six and thirty years of age, but sorrow had 
engraved such deep lines upon her brow that many 
would have supposed her much older. She looked 
about her with restless glances, and her eyes fell oc- 
casionally with a vacant stare upon her compan- 
ions engaged at a little distance from her. Sud- 
denly she uttered a piercing cry, greatly startling 
the Anabaptists. 

“ What is that ?” asked one of the women en- 
gaged in preparing the bread. 

All had turned in the direction whence the cry 
came; and when it was repeated, another woman 
answered : 

“ It is the Gelderland woman. She begins her 
morning song rather early to-day .” 

“ Perhaps she is hungry,” remarked a third, 
mockingly. 

“ Maybe she wants some more chastisement,” 
laughed another. 

“ Possibly,” said one of the men, cutting a piece 
off the roasting flesh to see if it were done ; “ yes- 
terday she was quiet all day after it.” 

“ I am afraid that her fits are coming on again,” 
said another man. “ Whenever we are in this part 
of the country, it seems as if she could not be kept 
17 


258 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


quiet. I have heard her moanings for years, but 
she never breaks out into those shrieks except when 
she is in this neighborhood. I w T ish we were well 
rid of her, for she gives us much trouble. Often 
have we spoken to our master about it, but he 
always tells us to say nothing on that subject — that 
it is his private affair.” 

“ But why does she moan so constantly and 
shriek so often ?” asked a young woman who was 
nursing her babe and seemed to pity the poor 
woman. 

“Ask her yourself,” replied the last speaker; “ it 
may be you can make something of her prattle. 
Tell her, however, that if she does not keep quiet 
our master will do with her as John, of Leyden did 
with his wife : when she would not obey him, he 
punished her as she deserved. Tell her that, and 
she’ll not cry out so ; for she is in great dread of 
death.” 

The young mother who had been touched with 
compassion for the poor unfortunate went to the 
tent before which the woman still sat crouching on 
the ground, and, seating herself by her side, she 
laid her hand upon her bare arm and said in a 
gentle, friendly tone of voice, 

“ Why do you moan and cry so much ?” 

The one addressed lifted her eyes for a moment, 
looked searchingly into those of her questioner, as 
if she would test her sincerity, and then dropped 


THE CAMP OF THE ANABAPTISTS. 259 


her head once more until the chin nearly rested upon 
her bosom. 

“ Can you not tell me what ails you ?” again asked 
the young mother, taking her babe from the breast. 

No answer. 

At this moment the babe began to cry ; this 
seemed to make an impression upon the Gelder- 
land woman, as she was called. At least, she raised 
her head, and, staring in her wild way at the in- 
fant, she stammered, 

“ Jacoba !” 

“ Yes ; that’s the little one’s name. But how 
did you know?” 

The woman made no answer. Her gaze remained 
fixed upon the babe; and when the babe ceased 
to cry and opened its blue eyes wide, the same name 
escaped her a second time. 

“ You are a strange woman,” said the mother, 
putting her child again to the breast. “ Won’t you 
answer ^a kind question ? Can’t you tell me why 
you keep by yourself so much and utter such sad 
cries from time to time?” 

But the woman remained mute; she had no eyes 
but for the child. Suddenly she brushed her hair 
from her forehead with her hand, and after remain- 
ing apparently absorbed in thought for several min- 
utes she seized the child by the arm before the 
mother could prevent it and sought to force the 
child from her. But the young woman struck her 


260 


WALTER II ARM SEN. 


hand loose with a strong blow, and when the Gel- 
derland woman attempted to seize the child a sec- 
ond time called to the other women, who quickly 
came to her aid. 

“ Why did you do this ?” asked one of the women, 
somewhat roughly. 

But she gave no reply. Her head fell once more 
upon her bosom, and she uttered softly the name, 

“ Jacoba !” 

“ Oh, let the poor fool go !” exclaimed one of the 
men, impatiently. “ You had better help us with 
the preparation of the meal. Soon it will be break- 
fast-time, and we shall not be ready.” 

“Yes, yes ! Come !” cried others. “ Why trouble 
yourselves about her? She is having her spring fit; 
but if she don’t take care, a fall storm will soon fol- 
low it. Come !” 

The men, women and children who had run to- 
gether when the young mother called for help 
left the Gelderland woman again to herself and 
returned to the place where they were preparing 
the meal. The mother, however, remained near 
the unfortunate’s tent, saying to herself,- 

“The poor woman seems affected in her mind. 
By and by, when the child is asleep, I must try 
again to have a talk with her; for I really do pity 
her. Perhaps my babe recalls one of her own, 
and—” 

At this instant a shrill whistle was heard in the 


THE CAMP OF THE ANABAPTISTS. 261 


direction of the woods, which was repeated twice, 
and then three times. A few moments later similar 
sounds were heard to proceed from the blue tent. 

“ What does that mean ?” said one of the men 
who had recently joined the company. 

“ That means a visitor,” replied one of the initi- 
ated. “ Our pickets, who are stationed along the 
edge of the woods, announced it by their whistles, 
and the whistling heard in reply^from the blue 
tent shows that our master is prepared to receive 
him.” 

“ Do you not know who it is ?” asked one of the 
women, inquisitively. 

“ How should / know ? Our master takes coun- 
sel only with the elders. I believe, however, that 
this is quite an important visit and has something 
to do with Gysbert Barends’s and Cornelis Koen's 
errand. We’ll soon know if it’s of any import- 
ance.” 

“ Do you suspect anything ?” 

“I believe something is to take place at Utrecht 
that will give us all work to do. I just learned by 
accident yesterday that the magistracy is taking 
measures to have us removed from the province.” 

“ I hardly think that,” said another Anabaptist. 
“ Utrecht has its hands full in settling the disputes 
between the ecclesiastical parties, and cannot give 
much thought to us, who are peacefully dwelling 
outside of her limits. But there is much disturb- 


262 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


ance at Amersfoort — the Reformed there want to 
drag every image from the churches — and I should 
not wonder if there were some fighting to be done 
in that place pretty soon.” 

“ If that’s the case,” said the first speaker, “ we’ll 
be sure to get some advantage out of it, for usually 
one party calls in our help against the other.” 

“Ha, ha!” laughed they all. “That wouldn’t 
be so bad, for we haven’t had any luck for a good 
while.” 

Just now the whistling in the woods was repeated ; 
and when all turned their eyes in that direction, they 
saw two men leaving the underbrush to the south 
of the camp. These we recognize at once as the pot- 
fellows of the Vrede inn. They were, however, ac- 
companied by a man seated upon a splendid gray 
war-horse. When the visitor had proceeded but a 
little distance from the woods, a trumpet sounded 
from the blue tent. At this all the men and women 
took their utensils and implements and hastened to 
their several tents, which they closed after them. 
In a few minutes nothing more was seen of the 
crowd that had been collected at the cooking-place, 
nor was a sound heard except that of the whisper- 
ing of a few inquisitive or uninitiated ones, who 
peered through the openings of the tents in the 
hope of discovering something of what was about 
to take place. 

When all had vanished, the large blue tent was 


THE CAMP OF THE ANABAPTISTS. 263 


opened, and the chief of the Anabaptists, King 
John Williams, made his appearance. This noto- 
rious leader was clad in a blue- velvet cloak with 
golden borders ornamented with flowers embroidered 
in silver thread. Accompanied by his oldest follow- 
ers — commonly called “ apostles” — he passed by the 
tents of his deluded adherents to meet the cavalier, 
who was rapidly approaching the camp. 

When the visitor reached the tent where a lit- 
tle while before the young mother had sought to 
engage the crazed woman in conversation, a pierc- 
ing shriek suddenly and startlingly broke upon 
the stillness. 

“ Gysbert Ba rends/’ said the Anabaptist king — 
and his sinister countenance assumed a malignant 
expression — “ enter the tent of the Gelderland 
woman and tell her that if she does not keep 
silence I shall surely visit upon her fitting punish- 
ment.” 

Barends bowed reverently before the king and 
entered the tent. The visiting cavalier had mo- 
mentarily turned in the direction of the outcry, 
and now, addressing John Williams, inquired, 

“ Who was it that shrieked ?” 

“ It is a poor crazed woman, Lord John van 
Vlooswyk,” replied the chief ; “ the spring fit is 
upon her.” 

The nobleman turned slightly pale, but, recover- 
ing himself, he alighted from his horse and threw 


264 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


the bridle to Cornells Koen, who tied the animal in 
the rear of the principal tent. 

It seemed, however, that Gysbert Barends found 
the task of silencing the Gelderland woman no easy 
one, for more than once screams were heard to pro- 
ceed from her tent. At a sign from the Anabaptist 
king two or three men went in to assist their com- 
rade. But now matters seemed to grow worse than 
ever; a struggle ensued, in which the crazed woman 
appeared more than a match for the strong men, 
for before Lord John had entered the large tent 
the smaller one was violently thrown open, and 
in a paroxysm of fury the Gelderland woman 
rushed upon the nobleman, followed by Barends and 
three other men, who had in vain sought to detain 
her. 

Lord John drew back and attempted to enter the 
blue tent, but the woman prevented him, and, con- 
fronting the nobleman, she bent upon him a look 
full of wild rage. 

“ What will you have, poor unfortunate ?” inquired 
Lord John, not at all at his ease, and with a visible 
shudder shaking himself loose from the hand which 
she had laid upon his arm. 

At the sound of the nobleman’s voice it seemed 
as if the crazed woman was endeavoring to collect 
her thoughts; she drew the palm of her hand over 
her forehead, as if to recall where she had heard 
that voice before. A moment after, her eyes again 


THE CAMP OF THE ANABAPTISTS. 265 


gleamed wildly, and, bending a fixed look upon the 
nobleman, she said, 

“ Where is Gerard ? Did you not bring Jacoba 
with you?” 

The noble’s face grew deathly pale, and he tried 
to push her aside ; but the excited woman was at 
this moment stronger than he, for she held him 
still by the outstretched arm, and, once more fix- 
ing that penetrating look upon him, she repeated 
the question. 

“ I know not what you mean, woman,” said the 
nobleman, whose courage was fast failing him. 
“ Let me go, or I shall use severer means of rid- 
ding myself of your grasp. I know you not;” 
and again, at hearing his voice, the crazed woman 
drew her hand across her forehead. 

“Come! enough of this!” said John Williams to 
the Gelderland woman at this juncture. At the 
sound of these words a shudder trembled through 
all her frame. “You have completely exhausted 
my patience. — Men and brethren, take her and 
conduct her to her tent. Guard her carefully, and 
by and by, when I have a more fitting opportunity, 
I will speak to her.” 

The men were about to obey their master’s com- 
mand, and had seized the woman by the arms, but 
as her mental powers departed from her those of her 
body seemed to increase in proportion. She tore her- 
self loose from her assailants, and, now flinging her- 


266 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


self upon the astounded nobleman, she encircled his 
neck with her hands and held him as in a vise : 

“ Gerard ! Jacoba ! Where is my child ?” 

The lord of Vlooswyk could not speak ; the 
woman was choking him to death, and the power- 
ful man would have fallen to the ground if the 
Anabaptists had not hastened to his assistance and 
freed him from the maniac’s grasp. 

“ Take her away ! take her away !” cried John 
Williams. “ Tie her fast in her tent!” 

With united strength Barends and Koen suc- 
ceeded in dragging the crazed woman as far as 
the entrance of her tent ; but when she reached this, 
she once more tore herself loose, and, escaping from 
their hands, fled with the swiftness of the hunted 
deer across the sandy plain and made her way 
directly to the woods. 

“ Pursue her ! pursue her !” exclaimed John 
Williams and the nobleman in one breath. 

The men did not wait to be told a second time ; 
but if the woman had proven herself their superior 
in muscular strength, there was no comparison be- 
tween the swiftness of her flight and their clumsy 
attempts to follow. She had penetrated into the 
depths of the wood before they had reached the 
edge of it, and all efforts to find her proved fruit- 
less. 

The men returned to their chief to report their 
failure, but he commanded them immediately to 


THE CAMP OF THE ANABAPTISTS. 267 


resume their search, and not to come back without 
the fugitive. 

Lord John was extremely annoyed at the escape 
of the woman, and still more so at the failure of 
the men to capture her ; but the Anabaptist king 
assured him that his men would soon recover her, 
and the nobleman was fain to remain content with 
this, and entered the blue tent. There, even in the 
midst of the evil plans which Lord John sought to 
mature with the aid of his accomplice, he often 
shuddered as he thought of the narrow escape he had 
had at the hands of the crazed woman. 

When the two men had seated themselves within 
the tent, the elders withdrew; whereupon John 
Williams opened a chest and took from it some 
papers. 

“ Tell me first,” said the nobleman, “ ere we dis- 
cuss our affairs, how is it that she is still in these 
regions ?” 

“ Because she is one of us, Lord John,” replied 
Williams, coolly. 

“ I thought, however, that you and I came to an 
agreement fourteen years ago that you would do 
away with her — or, at least, take her far enough 
away from here to prevent her troubling us?” 

“ We did indeed come to such an agreement, 
Lord John, but several reasons have induced me to 
refrain from carrying it out. First of all, she has 
joined our fellowship.” 


268 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“ A crazy woman ! Well, your communion must 
have gained little by that !” 

“ That is my own affair, Lord John. However, 
it is only in the spring that she is unbalanced; but 
as soon as the summer advances she is much better 
settled in mind, and is able to entertain several 
matters intelligently — in fact, many which had 
better not be known by outsiders. Hence I have 
to watch her very closely.” 

“ Yes, you watch her finely, if what I have just 
seen is a specimen of your vigilance.” 

“ That amounts to nothing ; she will be back in 
camp in a very short time.” 

“ May I ask you what other reasons you have 
for carrying her about with you over the country ? 
If I had apprehended this, I would have taken 
different measures to guard her, I assure you.” 

“ I trust you will bear in mind the conditions 
upon which I consented to take charge of this 
woman?” replied John Williams. “I believe 
to-day is just the date for fulfilling one of these 
conditions.” 

“ Certainly ! I was to pay you a sum of money 
yearly as long as she should live.” 

“ Well, is she not alive?” inquired King John, 
naively. 

“Ah ! and now I perceive the chief of the rea- 
sons why you have not taken the pains to do away 
with her: you do not wish to kill the goose that 


THE CAMP OF THE ANABAPTISTS. 269 


lays the golden eggs. Truly, I admire the acuteness 
which your avarice has taught you.” 

“We surely need not find fault with each oth- 
er’s motives, Lord John,” remarked John Williams, 
coldly ; “ you stretch out your hands to possess your- 
self of Vlooswyk, while I take pleasure in doing a 
friend a good turn. May I again read you the con- 
tract which was concluded between us?” 

“ No ; keep that document to yourself : I know 
the contents but too well. But I trust that this 
will be the last annual installment that you will get 
from me. Six weeks from to-day Jacoba will be of 
age, and then the time will not be far distant when 
I shall make her inheritance lawfully my own by 
marriage with her.” 

“ And what then is to become of her ?” 

“Oh! of her?” said Lord John, with cold indif- 
ference. “Why, no one will believe what a crazy 
woman says. Besides, if you will not promise me 
that she will be out of the way in six weeks’ time, 
I can find other means of ridding myself of her.” 

“ By the aid of a murder?” suggested Williams, 
laconically. 

“ Does that seem so strange to your mind ?” said 
Lord John. “ Is it not your motto that everything 
on earth is yours, and that nothing can stand in the 
way of your attaining your ends ?” 

“ You are severe, Lord John,” remarked the 
Anabaptist king, with provoking coolness. 


270 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“ Truth usually hits hard, does it not?” sneered 
Lord John. 

“ Very likely ; but I, in my turn, can deal in some 
cutting truths.” 

“ And what are they ?” inquired the nobleman, 
scornfully. 

“ That Lady Gerard van Vlooswyk — ” 

“Speak not that name!” interrupted Lord John, 
looking anxiously around the tent and turning pale. 

“ No one can hear us, Lord John. But if that 
name offends you, let me say that this woman will 
remain with me until my earthly course be run, 
unless — ” and he hesitated. 

“Well, unless what?” inquired Lord John, with 
eager impatience. 

“ Unless the goose should cease to lay the golden 
eggs.” 

“ If, then, I withhold the yearly moneys, you 
would rid yourself of her presence ?” 

“Exactly; and I would send her to John of 
Nassau,” coolly remarked the chief. 

“ To my deadly enemy ?” 

“ The same ; he will doubtless furnish me with 
other golden eggs, and grant me, besides, the 
privilege of remaining as long as I please in these 
regions.” 

“ I see that I have to deal with an old fox.” 

“ Who would gladly serve the lion, provided the 
latter — ” 


THE CAMP OF THE ANABAPTISTS. 271 


“ Will furnish him with plenty of prey. I un- 
derstand you. But let me hear what are your con- 
ditions.” 

“I can’t tell you now/’ said John Williams. “A 
wise householder finishes his old affairs before 
troubling himself with new ones. Eight days 
from now I will let you know my new conditions. 
Meanwhile, I am burning with curiosity to find 
what is the real object of your coming to-day.” 

“ I will tell you,” said Lord John ; and he pro- 
ceeded to lay before the Anabaptist chief the plan 
which we have already heard him communicate to 
the priests of St. Servatius. The details of that 
plan, as arranged between these accomplices, will 
appear farther on. 

About an hour afterward the nobleman left the 
camp, accompanied by two men to the edge of the 
woods. Lord John, however, did not take the road 
to his castle, but chose one in an opposite direction, 
leading northward, to the city of Amersfoort. 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE KINGDOM THROUGH TRIBULATION. 

T the same time that Lord John van Vlooswyk 



-LI- was preparing to visit the camp of the Ana- 
baptists, an irrepressible longing drove Walter 
Harmsen to seek Vlooswyk castle. 

It was a beautiful morning. The heavy showers 
had ceased, and Nature seemed to enjoy the rest after 
the continuous storms of the last few days. A warm 
spring sun hastened the development of the bursting 
leaf-buds and caused an early spring flower here and 
there to bloom in beauty. The beech and linden 
trees surrounding the castle stood glorying in the 
pride of their fresh young foliage. Thousands of 
birds sprang from branch to branch and trilled 
forth their uncontrollable gladness, while occasion- 
ally a prudent couple, half hid among the foliage, 
might be seen planning or building the tiny nest 
where soon the young mother must lay her eggs 
and raise her tuneful family. 

Soon after sunrise Walter found himself on the 
road between the house Ter Heide and Vlooswyk. 
For what he had come he could not precisely ex- 


272 


THE KINGDOM THROUGH TRIBULATION. 273 


plain to himself. He had slept scarcely an hour 
during the preceding night, for the warnings ad- 
dressed to him by his grandfather were not entire- 
ly baseless. He was also impatiently awaiting the 
morrow, on which he should again meet his friend 
the ensign. As he would not be able to have his 
company till afternoon, he determined to pass the 
forenoon at Vlooswyk, return at midday and spend 
the rest of the day with Dirk. Besides, he needed 
some moments of solitude ; he wished to enjoy un- 
interrupted communion with God, to take sweet 
counsel with him and to seek wisdom and comfort 
to guide and sustain him in all the difficulties that 
seemed to be crowding upon him. Thus he sought 
to account to himself for being at so early an hour 
near the castle of Vlooswyk, occupying a partially 
concealed position among some underbrush growing 
on the edge of the woods and skirting the high- 
road. But the chief reason was as yet undefined. 

Penetrating the wood still farther, Walter seated 
himself upon the trunk of a fallen tree. While 
himself completely hidden from the view of one 
coming along the road, he could descry any one’s 
approach. He had been seated here for perhaps a 
quarter of an hour, when he was disturbed in his 
meditations by approaching voices and footsteps. 
He looked to see who could be paying a visit to 
the castle at so early an hour, when, to his surprise, 
he perceived that it was the lodgekeeper of the 
18 


274 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


castle, accompanied by two servants of the head- 
sheriff of Utrecht. They were engaged in earnest 
conversation, and Walter plainly distinguished the 
following words : 

“ I repeat it, you cannot see Lord John this 
morning. He has just left the castle on horseback, 
and, as he is not accustomed to tell us where he goes, 
I cannot inform you where you may find him or 
when he will return.” 

“ Then you will surely permit us to await his re- 
turn at the castle ?” 

“ I am not at liberty to grant this,” said the lodge- 
keeper; “ admission to the castle is strictly forbidden 
to every one except with the express leave of Lord 
John.” 

“ But what if we tell you that we have come by 
the command of Goert van Reede, head-sheriff of 
Utrecht?” 

“ This can make no difference to me, for I am 
simply to fulfill the orders that have been given 
me. But I shall gladly convey a message from 
you to my master.” 

u We charge you, then, to invite Lord John van 
Vlooswyk, in the name of His Honor the Head- 
Sheriff, within three days — ” 

Walter could hear no more, as the men had now 
passed out of earshot. Seating himself once more, 
he wondered what the head-sheriff could want with 
the nobleman, and the thought struck him whether 


THE KINGDOM THROUGH TRIBULATION. 275 


Dirk Gapertz and his message to that officer had 
anything to do with it. 

Another half hour of uninterrupted meditation 
was now enjoyed by Walter; his musings wandered 
back to the past, and he could not but be thankful 
as he contemplated the blessing of God upon his 
unpretending method of work. It was with special 
vividness that he thought of the time when he first 
began his evangelistic labors in the vicinity of this 
castle. Upon the road he had met the forester, who 
hospitably invited him to rest a while and partake 
of some refreshment in his dwelling, which was 
near. Walter had gratefully accepted his hospital- 
ity, and, having found a good opportunity, he had 
begun to speak of the subject uppermost in heart 
and mind. The forester had manifested much in- 
difference, but his wife gave Walter close and eager 
attention. After a w r hile the forester, under pre- 
text that he had various matters to attend to, had 
left the house ; but Walter continued to converse 
with the woman, announcing to her the hope and 
the comfort that are the portion of every one who 
accepts the grace of God in Jesus Christ. 

While Walter had been thus engaged in conver- 
sation with the wife of the forester the door had 
opened, and another visitor announced herself. It 
was the heiress of Vlooswyk, a light-hearted young 
lady of some fifteen summers. She darted into the 
room and kissed the children, and, seeing tears in 


276 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


the eyes of the forester’s wife, she had with much 
concern inquired as to their cause. Walter quiet- 
ly answered in the woman’s stead and explained 
as clearly as he could what had moved her thus, and 
by a loving presentation of the gospel succeeded in 
making a good impression upon the maiden’s heart. 
All was new to her. She had never yet heard of 
the teachings of the Reformation, and, although 
there was much that she could not understand, a 
voice within her seemed to say that this was indeed 
the truth of God. 

Since that day Walter had frequently visited the 
forester’s house and had given his wife a Bible, 
and more than once it had happened that Lady 
Jacoba, the heiress of Vlooswyk, had also been 
present. Walter thus had an opportunity of becom- 
ing thoroughly acquainted with her, and he had 
found her to be of a very winning disposition, com- 
bining simplicity and childlikeness, while yet she 
was womanly and inclined to thoughtfulness. She 
soon formed the firm resolution to serve the Lord, 
and, although Walter had pointed out to her that 
if she remained faithful to that resolve she would 
be exposed to many tribulations, she had put him 
to shame by the unshaken faith and trust she placed 
in the Saviour whom he had preached unto her. 

And, indeed, the young lady did endure tribu- 
lation. Her uncle and guardian was very angry 
with the maiden, who ventured to declare to him 


THE KINGDOM THROUGH TRIBULATION. 277 

her purpose of leaving a Church which did dishonor 
to the perfect efficacy of Christ’s blood by its doc- 
trine of the mass, and which held other teachings 
directly in conflict with God’s word. He placed 
restrictions upon the freedom of her intercourse 
with those whom he suspected of being adherents 
of the new faith ; he brought priests to the castle 
to reclaim her by argument or threats of the wrath 
of the Church. He had also traced her conversion 
to Walter Harmsen, and he endeavored with special 
eagerness to prevent her meeting him, and, as she 
knew, he sought Walter’s life. He would undoubt- 
edly have taken severer measures with her if he 
had not been actuated by motives of avarice and 
wished to secure her affection, so as to gain posses- 
sion of her estates by marriage. 

These were the recollections that occupied Wal- 
ter’s thoughts. He was on the point of going on 
his way, when the chattering of the squirrels 
attracted his attention, and, casting his eyes down 
the road, he saw at a distance a young maiden com- 
ing toward his resting-place. He had no difficulty 
in recognizing in this maidenly form the heiress of 
Vlooswyk. How lovely was her appearance ! Tall 
and slender of build, she seemed like one of those 
spring flowers ready to bud forth into maturity. 
Her stature as well as her intelligent countenance 
seemed to indicate a maiden of eighteen, but her 
clear eye and her simple bearing betrayed the more 


278 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


childlike age which she had really attained. She 
was clad in the picturesque attire of the sixteenth 
century. Her long fair hair, escaping in abundant 
tresses from beneath a green-silk cap, flowed down 
upon her shoulders and about her neck, which by 
reason of the coolness of the morning was encir- 
cled with a collar of ermine. A bodice of pink 
silk closely fitted to the waist terminated in a border 
of green lace ; the broadcloth overskirt proceeding 
from beneath this gay bodice was looped up in front, 
to prevent interference with walking, and thus re- 
vealed an underskirt of a many-colored material. 

Walter’s eyes remained immovably fixed upon 
the young lady as she approached. The nearer 
she came, the more rapid became the pulsations 
of his heart. A feeling of tender yearning swept 
over his soul, much the same as that which fills the 
heart of a mother when she looks fondly upon her 
child. That feeling might indeed have been desig- 
nated by the name “love,” but differed greatly from 
that which is ordinarily awakened in the heart of a 
young man for a young maiden of such loveliness 
and worth. The difference in their stations, but, 
above all, the work to which he had deliberately 
consecrated himself, made it comparatively easy 
for him to banish this kind of tenderness. To 
assert that there was nothing akin to it in Walter’s 
heart would bespeak him too superhuman to be a 
suitable hero for our story, but the other and holier 


THE KINGDOM THROUGH TRIBULATION. 279 

love for one who was one of the first-fruits of his 
labors for Christ, and sympathized with him in the 
service of Christ, so far overshadowed the more 
earthly sentiment as to leave him undisturbed and 
happy in the cultivation of this friendship. When 
she came nearer, he could see that her cheeks were 
more than usually pale. 

“ Can anything extraordinary have happened to 
her ?” Walter began to muse. “How changed she 
is since last I saw her ! When I think of the day 
upon which I first met her, and make comparison 
between the lady of Vlooswyk as she was then and 
as she is now, I must indeed rejoice in the change 
which has come over her innermost experiences ; 
but I have reason to deplore the external change 
from an unclouded happiness to care and sorrow. 
I may rejoice — God be praised ! — that the preach- 
ing of the gospel was not without effect upon her 
heart, but I regret the domestic persecution which 
this has entailed upon her. God grant that his 
grace may sustain her in fighting the good fight of 
faith !” 

While Walter was thus communing with him- 
self, the heiress of Vlooswyk had reached a spot in 
the road directly opposite Walter; for one moment 
the youth’s heart beat tumultuously, for her loveli- 
ness was irresistibly fascinating to him. Surely 
this love that beat within his heart was more than 
a brother’s love for a sister ? But reason and the 


280 


WALTER HAR MS EN. 


grace of God made him in the next moment con- 
queror over this sudden upwelling of an affection 
that was otherwise so natural, and he became calm 
again and strong to meet her in an unaffected, 
brotherly manner — a brother, above all, in the 
love of Christ. 

The girl stood directly opposite him, seemingly 
plunged in deep thought, unconscious of any one’s 
observation. Walter now bent aside the low 
branches of the beech trees and stepped forth 
from his place of concealment. The noise of his 
approach through the underbrush startled her, but a 
single look was sufficient for recognition; a scarcely- 
perceptible flush overspread her pale features, and 
with the words, “ Walter, you here?” she stretched 
out her hands toward him, as much to greet him as 
to indicate the need of his assistance in her present 
state of mind. 

Walter quickly took the profferred hands, and, 
pressing them cordially, said, 

“What grieves you, lady? Why are you so 
pale ?” 

Jacoba buried her face in her hands and replied, 

“ I am not well.” 

“That is not all that troubles you,” observed 
Walter, decisively. “ Why should you hide your 
trouble from me?” 

The maiden gave him a quick, grateful look of 
confidence and said, 


THE KINGDOM THROUGH TRIBULATION 281 

“ I cannot conceal from you that I suffer greatly 
— very greatly ; but,” she added, with a bright 
smile, “ now that I see you, it seems as if it were 
all over and I had nothing more to fear. How 
glad am I to meet you ! Do you know that you 
have been very unkind ?” 

“I?” asked Walter, surprised. 

“ Yes, you. Eight days you have left me with- 
out any sign from you. Do you know that eight 
days are well nigh eight years to a prisoner? But 
do not let us dwell on that; I am so glad to see 
you that I forgive your neglect.” 

“ But why do you conceal from me the cause of 
your suffering ? Do you know so little of me that 
you will not grant me the right to know? If you 
suffer, I also suffer; for says not the scripture if 
‘one member suffer, all the members suffer with 
it’?” 

The girl’s eyes filled with tears, and she answered, 

“ I know it, but I would not cause you grief on 
my account ; therefore I would rather not tell you 
all I have to endure. But I suffer nothing now 
that you are with me. I hope you will grant me 
your society during a few hours. Lord John went 
away early this morning, and will certainly not 
return till evening. I have so much to ask you 
to which I must have an answer that I will not 
soon let you go.” 

“ Let us take this lane ; at the other end of it is 


282 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


the forester’s house,” said Walter. “ There we can 
rest ourselves and talk, and the good wife will no 
doubt be glad to join in the conversation.” 

To this the maiden readily agreed, and they 
wended their way to the forester’s home. As they 
walked she began to give Walter an insight into 
the spiritual troubles that oppressed her. She wished 
to serve the Lord and confess him, but she also felt 
that she ought to be doing something to win others 
to him : 

“ And the saddest of all is when I think of those 
nearest to me, my own kin. When I think of them, 
my heart condemns me that I have done nothing to 
make those in daily contact with me acquainted 
with the glorious truths of the gospel. Oh, do 
pray for me that the Lord may give me courage, 
for that is just what I lack. Whenever I see 
Lord John, my heart is filled with pain ; he leads 
a godless life and annoys me constantly with dem- 
onstrations of his affection. It is possible that 
he is anxious to execute his guardianship faith- 
fully ; but if he loved me as a relative, he would 
not daily grieve me with exhibitions of coarseness. 
And, besides this, there is — ” She ceased speaking, 
for she imagined that what she was about to say 
might possibly not be agreeable to Walter. 

“ Go on, I pray you, Lady Jacoba. What more 
is there?” 

Jacoba seemed to be in a dilemma, but Walter’s 


THE KINGDOM THROUGH TRIBULATION. 283 


look of cordial interest decided her, and she con- 
tinued : 

“ Oh, I cannot hide anything from you : you are 
my dear brother, and, next to God, the only one to 
whom I can open my heart, and who will give me 
counsel and comfort. I will inform you what has 
brought a pallor to my cheeks and makes me tremble 
for myself. Late last night my guardian returned 
from Utrecht. I was in my room, and was engaged 
in prayer with my nurse, Hanna, who also has re- 
ceived the glad tidings with joy. Suddenly Lord 
John entered the apartment ; he derided us when 
he found us upon our knees, and after he had 
ordered Hanna to leave the room he told me that, 
as in a few weeks I would be of age, I must then 
choose one of two things — either to marry him, or 
to depart for a convent in France. Either propo- 
sition made me shudder. I am still so young, and 
I do not love my guardian. If I could love him 
and he were a person like you,” she continued, in 
artless and unconscious simplicity, u I could see no 
objection to it; but, as it is, I cannot endure the 
thought of it. And I dread a convent hardly less. 
Now you know it all. But let us say no more 
about it. I trust myself wholly to Jesus and his 
keeping; he will provide for me. Tell me now 
how you are prospering with your preaching.” 


CHAPTER XXI. 


THE CRAZED FUGITIVE. 

ALTER HARMSEN was much impressed 



" * with what Jacoba had commuuicated to him, 
and, greatly as he would have liked to return to the 
subject, he well understood that it was better not to 
speak of it just now. He complied, therefore, with 
her wish, and told her that, in spite of much opposi- 
tion, the Lord had nevertheless blessed his simple ad- 
dresses to the people, and that the preaching services 
which he had lately begun to hold on the peasant 
Dykerts’s farm had drawn together great numbers. 
At this good news the maiden clapped her hands for 
joy. Meanwhile, they had reached the end of the 
lane, and, entering a cross-road, they soon came to 
the house of the forester. 

The good wife was at home, surrounded by her 
children. The Lady Jacoba had a kind word for 
each of them, and, taking the babe upon her arm, 
she danced and romped about the room with it. 
The child laughed and crowed in great glee, not at 
all disconcerted by this intimate contact with no 
less a personage than the heiress of Vlooswyk. 


284 


THE CRAZED FUGITIVE. 


285 


Walter had engaged the woman in conversation, 
and was urging her to maintain courageously the 
struggle which she too had to brave. 

“ My dear husband is not what I should call 
opposed to my religious convictions, Mr. Walter,” 
she said ; “ he is, rather, indifferent. He always 
says that it is better for me not to meddle with such 
things — that they should be left to the clergy.” 

“And does he think that the clergy can work out 
his salvation ?” asked Walter. 

“ That is what I put to him myself, but he 
answered, ‘ I do what they tell me, and what more 
can I do ?’ Then I pointed out to him the many 
untruths which they maintain ; I told him that 
none could be saved by one’s own merits, neither 
by Church nor priest, self-chastisement nor fasting. 
But when I begin to speak thus, he leaves the house 
or calls me a fanatic.” 

“ I sympathize with you in this your trial,” said 
Walter; “ but do not lose courage on that account: 
faith and love will conquer in the end. Pray fer- 
vently to the Lord ; he is faithful, and will hear 
you for Jesus’ sake.” 

At this instant one of the children, who stood by 
the window, uttered a loud scream. All looked in 
that direction, wondering what ailed the child, when 
in front of the window was seen the tall form of a 
woman whose disheveled hair and features distorted 
by fatigue and fear might well frighten a child. 


286 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


Before the inmates of room had time to indulge in 
any conjectures regarding her, she opened the door 
and entered. 

It was the crazed fugitive from the camp of the 
Anabaptists, who had hastened over hill and dale, 
and had found her way thus far. She walked to 
the centre of the room, and there stood staring so 
wildly that the children fled in terror to their mother 
or hid themselves behind Jacoba. Walter at once 
suspected that she was demented. He spoke to her 
gently, but the woman took no notice of him. Her 
eyes were fixed upon Jacoba, and her wildness 
seemed suddenly to desert her. For whom was 
intended the smile which now lighted up her 
countenance? Was she smiling to the babe which 
the heiress was clasping to her bosom, or was that 
friendly recognition meant for Jacoba herself? The 
longer her eyes rested upon Jacoba, the brighter 
grew the light that illumined the stranger’s features. 
She brushed away the straggling locks, and seemed 
to reflect. A few incoherent words fell from her 
lips, but she soon relapsed into a deep reverie. 

Walter made another attempt to speak to the 
woman, and laid his hand softly upon her shoulder, 
but she gave no heed to his words. Shaking off 
his touch, she laid her finger upon her lips, as if 
calling for silence, and, spreading out her arms, she 
made a movement toward the heiress of Vlooswyk. 

Jacoba hastily drew back, for, although her heart 


THE CRAZED FUGITIVE. 287 

overflowed with compassion for the poor unfortu- 
nate, she was a little in fear of her also. Walter, 
likewise, apprehending that the crazed woman 
might do more harm than she intended, placed 
himself between her and the maiden. This seemed 
to grieve the woman ; her eyes everywhere sought 
Jacoba, and, as Walter’s body intercepted the view 
of her, she cast herself upon the floor in a crouch- 
ing position and began to utter a sound resembling 
the low crying of a child. 

“ Good woman,” said Walter, “ whence do you 
come? Tell us, and we shall take you home.” 

But the woman made no reply ; her crying, on 
the contrary, grew louder. 

“ You surely do not belong in this neighborhood, 
poor woman ! Do you know that you are at the 
house of Lord John van Vlooswyk’s forester?” 

On hearing the nobleman’s name the woman 
raised her head and stammered, “ Vlooswyk !” 
and, with an evidently painful effort to gather her 
scattered thoughts, she added softly, “ Jacoba !” 

Our friends looked at each other in astonishment 
at hearing her speak Jacoba’s name. A strange 
feeling seized on the young gentlewoman’s heart. 

“ Jacoba, Jacoba ! Vlooswyk !” the crazed woman 
went on, muttering to herself, and, covering her 
face with her hands, she began to weep aloud. 

The heiress of Vlooswyk placed the child, which 
she had continued to hold, upon a chair, and was 


288 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


approaching the demented creature to comfort her, 
when loud voices were heard outside the house. 
The next moment Walter caught sight of Gysbert 
Barends and Cornelis Koen, and the latter was 
heard to call out, 

“ Here she is ! Here she is I” 

The door was violently thrown open, and the two 
Anabaptists entered the room. They seemed to be 
surprised, however, for, instead of at once going up 
to the crazed woman, they drew back a step or two, 
while Koen exclaimed, 

“ How does he come to be here ?” 

“ What do you wish, men ?” inquired Walter, plac- 
ing himself between the woman and her pursuers. 

The men exchanged a few whispered words, and 
then Koen replied, 

“ We are come to convey this woman back to her 
home. You see, she is out of her mind and has run 
away.” 

“ And where does she live?” 

“ Wherever we go,” answered Koen, insolently. 
“The whole earth is our possession.” 

“Who, then, are you?” asked Walter, who re- 
membered the encounter of the day before. 

“ We are the true people of Zion, who trouble 
ourselves about no one and follow our own way.” 

“You belong, then, to the Anabaptists?” 

“ That is the nickname which the world bestows 
upon us. We are Christians who practice the cus- 


THE CRAZED FUGITIVE. 


289 


tom of the apostolic Church: ‘ they had all things 
common.’ This woman is a member of our society; 
she has escaped from our keeping; and now, by 
command of our master, we are here to take her 
back.” 

“ But you see, men, that she is not in a condition 
just now to accompany you to the place where your 
people are stopping. Let her rest a few hours. In 
the mean time the forester will return home, and 
you can consult with him about getting her back.” 

“ Why this delay?” objected Koen. “ What do 
we care about your forester? We came here and 
found this woman. I tell you she belongs to 
us;” and, pushing Walter aside, he called Gysbert 
Barends, who came forward, and each seized the 
woman by an arm. 

Jacoba by a look besought Walter not to suffer 
the poor creature to be taken away ; but it appeared 
that the woman did not need Walter’s assistance, for 
no sooner did she feel the touch of Koen’s hand 
upon her shoulder than she suddenly sprang to 
her feet, threw Koen against Barends and took 
refuge behind Jacoba. 

“ Come on, you wretched fool !” exclaimed Koen, 
rubbing his forehead, which had come into no gentle 
contact with Barends’s person. “ Come on ! I am 
getting tired of this dilly-dallying.” He attempted 
to push Walter aside, but Jacoba stepped between 
him nd the poor woman. 

19 


290 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


The room presented a scene of great confusion, 
Walter, Jacoba and the forester’s wife doing their 
utmost to shield the poor creature who had fled to 
them for refuge, the crazed fugitive crying and 
shrieking alternately, the children screaming in 
terror, and the two Anabaptists cursing and strug- 
ling. Walter plead with them to allow her at 
least some rest, but the pursuers would not listen 
to this, and began to threaten more violent measures. 

“Then I tell you,” said Walter, “that I will not 
suffer you take her away.” 

“And do you think that you can prevent us, you 
milksop?” cried Koen, contemptuously. 

“ With God’s help, yes,” the young man replied, 
and struck down the hand which Koen had again 
laid upon the woman. 

“Shall we stand this, Barends?” cried Koen, 
enraged. — “You have insulted me, poppy, and I 
shall not leave you unpunished and, drawing his 
sword, he pressed upon Walter. 

Jacoba and the forester’s wife, seeing Walter’s 
danger, sprang upon his assailant and held his hand. 
Barends now threw himself upon Walter, and, the 
latter felt that he was no match for the rough cus- 
tomer he was encountering. There can be no doubt 
that the women and he must have been overpowered 
had not assistance speedily arrived. The noise of 
the scuffle, as well as the shrieks and screams of the 
women and children, had attracted the attention of 


THE CRAZED FUGITIVE. 


29 X 


some passers-by. The door was thrown open, and 
the ensign, with Arminius and Thomas Brully, 
entered the room. 

The Anabaptists, with mingled disappointment 
and rage, saw that they could not contend with the 
odds now against them. They flung themselves 
through the open door, upsetting Brully in their 
flight, and sped away to the woods. The ensign, 
with Walter and Arminius, made a brief attempt 
to overtake them, but soon returned. 

Meanwhile, the demented woman had disap- 
peared. In spite of the friendly remonstrances of 
the forester’s wife and Jacoba, she had broken from 
them in a frenzy ; and when the men returned, she 
was nowhere to be found. 

Walter expressed his delight at this timely meet- 
ing with his friends, and after taking leave of Ja- 
coba, who wished to remain a while longer with the 
forester’s wife, he left the house in their company. 

On their way Dirk Gapertz informed Walter 
that, according to appointment, he and Arminius 
had taken an early-morning walk; that about an 
houi previously they had stopped at his grand- 
father’s house, and had learned from Thomas 
Brully that an important message had come for 
Walter, whereupon they had all together taken 
the road to Vlooswyk, surmising that he had 
gone thither. 

“And what is the message?” inquired Walter. 


292 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“A request from Head-Sheriff Goert van Reede 
that you meet him at the town-hall to-morrow 
'morning at ten o’clock/ ” replied Thomas Brully. 

Walter looked at Dirk Gapertz. The latter 
smiled, and, taking him aside, said, 

“ You think that my arrival has something to 
do with this invitation of Mr. Goert van Reede. 
Perhaps it has ; at least, we are on the track of a 
great crime, the origin of which is traced to Vloos- 
wvk. But, although I know that you frequent 
that neighborhood, I hardly think you will be 
charged with this outrage.” 

“ When did you see Mr. Goert van Reede?” 

“ Last night. I gave him my letters and placed 
myself wholly at his disposal, but, since His Wor- 
ship must first consult the magistracy, I was free to 
do with my time this morning what I pleased. It 
may be that I can devote the whole day to you ; I 
greatly rejoice in this, for our conversation yester- 
day has made me long to see and hear more of 
you.” 

Walter in his turn expressed his satisfaction at 
the opportunity of spending many hours with the 
ensign. They now hastened on to overtake Armin- 
ius and Brully, who were engaged in an absorbing 
conversation about their studies. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


AT THE TOWN- HALL. 

I N the chamber where the burgomaster and other 
magistrates of the city of Utrecht were accus- 
tomed to assemble for business was seated Mr. 
Goert van Reede, head-sheriff of the city ; on the 
table before him lay various papers and letters 
which were awaiting his perusal or signature. 
Although it was early in the day, it was never- 
theless evident that he felt somewhat weary ; at 
least, he pushed the papers aside, fell back into 
his arm-chair and leaned his head upon his hand. 
And well might he be weary, for the condition of 
the times brought him much perplexity. He had 
held the office of head-sheriff since the year 1555, 
and during that time many a dark cloud had passed 
over his native city. Utrecht had frequently been 
made to suffer during the contentions with tyran- 
ny and the Inquisition of those earlier years. Much 
violence had been committed by the Spanish garri- 
sons at various times sent to hold and punish the 
city. It was to compel Utrecht to accept the im- 
position of the ten-penny tax that the troops had 

293 


294 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


been removed from the city of Briel, and that it 
had been left open to the successful attack of the 
Water-Beggars on April 1, 1572. 

In those days, when political and religious prin- 
ciples were so closely united, a thoughtful patriot 
was usually led to adopt the Reformed faith. The 
head-sheriff had cordially accepted the doctrines of 
Protestantism, but he was far from being intolerant 
of the views of others who clung to the old Romish 
faith or differed from him in the less essential par- 
ticulars of the Reformed tenets ; he was, therefore, 
opposed to the desires of those who deemed that 
liberty of conscience was to be accorded only to the 
Reformed. These men caused him much trouble 
by their extravagant and intolerant claims. He 
could not endure the thought of giving greater 
privileges to one party or sect than to another. It 
was his aim, indeed, to let the doctrines of the Ref- 
ormation have the widest circulation, so that the 
people might hear the truth and have an oppor- 
tunity to accept or reject it, and he was willing to 
do much to counteract priestcraft and efforts to 
keep the people in ignorance and superstition ; 
but he would neither oppress Romanists who chose 
to remain such nor advance one party of the Prot- 
estants at the expense of another. It pained the 
worthy man greatly that on account of these differ- 
ences of sentiment new and difficult complications 
were continually arising, for he feared that these 


AT THE TOWN-HALL. 


295 


might lead to civic disturbances, to conflicts of 
citizens against citizens — more to be dreaded than 
the oppression of the Spaniards. The plan agreed 
upon by Lord John van Vlooswyk and the priests 
of St. Servatius was also taking effect. The Rom- 
ish populace were being stirred up against the 
authorities, and were ready at a signal to rise 
up in arms, and the head-sheriff was well aware 
of that fact. 

These things were amply sufficient to provide 
the head -sheriff with food for anxious reflection at 
the moment that we see him sitting with bowed 
head before his table. But, besides, the youthful 
ensign had brought a message from the director of 
the union, Count John of Nassau, involving a mat- 
ter of so serious and delicate a nature that its consid- 
eration had robbed him of his night’s rest. After 
consulting with the magistrates at a meeting held 
late at night, it had seemed advisable to have an 
oral conference with the several preachers, orthodox 
as well as liberal, to induce them to suppress their 
mutual bitterness of expression and to admonish 
them to more unity and co-operation ; as regarded 
the Romanists, means would be employed to silence 
their eloquent instigator, William van der Eyke. 
Immediately after reading Count John’s letter the 
high-sheriff had commissioned several of his officials 
to inquire into the important affair mentioned there- 
in, and had sent a messenger to Amersfoort to 


296 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


obtain further instructions. He was now awaiting 
the results of these preliminary measures. 

Mr. Goert van Reede had sat thus plunged in 
thought for some time when the door opened and a 
servant announced that the preacher Nicholas Sopin- 
gius had arrived. The head-sheriff arose to receive 
him when he entered the chamber. 

The Rev. Nicholas Sopingius was tall of person, 
thin and of a pleasant countenance. In accordance 
with the custom of those days, he wore a headdress 
that might be described as a sort of cap without a 
visor, but with a stiff velvet border, over which 
drooped on one side the soft and yielding crown, 
which was flat and low. When, in greeting the 
sheriff, he removed this covering, he disclosed a 
lofty forehead and hair carelessly arranged, while 
a heavy moustache and a dark beard covered the 
lips and chin. His neck was made rather uncom- 
fortable by his broad-pleated collar. His dress was 
in keeping with the dignity and sobriety of his 
sacred office. A close-fitting garment of dark- 
brown cloth reached to the waist, and terminated in 
loose folds; over this hung a wide cloak. Black- 
velvet breeches secured at the knees with silver 
clasps, dark-blue stockings and a pair of strong 
shoes completed his attire. 

“ I am rejoiced to see you, reverend sir,” said 
Mr. Van Reede. “ I trust that the acceptance of 
my invitation caused you no inconvenience?” 


AT THE TOWN-HALL. 


297 


“ Not at all, Sir Sheriff,” replied Sopingius. 
“ The Lord saith in his word, ‘Submit yourselves 
to every ordinance of man for the Lord’s sake;’ 
and again, ‘Let every soul be subject unto the 
higher powers.’ ” 

“Very true, very true, reverend sir; yet your 
pressing labors might have prevented your coming. 
But I account myself fortunate that this was not 
the case, and I will immediately inform you what 
induced me to ask your presence here.” 

“ I am wholly at your service, Your Honor,” said 
Sopingius. 

The two men now seated themselves at the table, 
and Mr. Goert van Reede, taking a paper in his 
hands and unfolding it, began : 

“ With what sentiments do you and your col- 
league, the Rev. Mr. Helmichius, regard the work 
of the minister of the St. Jacob’s church ?”* 

“ Do you mean Mr. Hubert Duifhuis?” inquired 
Sopingius.f 

* This church was at that time used for services by both the 
Romanists and the Protestants. 

fThis Hubert Duifhuis was formerly a priest connected with 
this same St. Jacob’s church. Having been suspected of ad- 
herence to the Reformation, he was compelled to flee the coun- 
try. In the year 1578 he returned and openly avowed his 
change of views, but he differed widely from the orthodox 
Reformed in many particulars. He would never consent to 
preach on the catechism, even at that early date obligatory 
upon the preachers of the Reformed Church. The Holy 


298 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


The countenance of Sopingius assumed a serious 
expression much akin to dislike. This was not 
unobserved by the official, who added, 

“ If I am correct in my surmises, I fear that the 
good understanding which I should so gladly see 
subsisting between men who preach a gospel of 
peace has rather diminished than increased.” 

“ I believe, however, with your permission, Sir 
Sheriff,” remarked the clergyman, “ that you should 
not number Mr. Duifhuis among those who preach 
a sound gospel.” 

“No?” inquired Mr. VanBeede, as if he learned 
this for the first time, intending to draw out the 
clergyman. 

“No, indeed !” replied Sopingius, earnestly. “A 
man who, contrary to God’s word, acknowledges 
no elders, nor deacons, nor consistory ; a man who 
rejects church discipline and excommunication ; a 
man who will not teach or preach on the cate- 
chism;* a man from whose lips is never heard a 

Scripture,” he said, “is my catechism.” He rejected predesti- 
nation, original sin and imputed righteousness, maintaining 
that men should cause their “inner virtues” to appear. Yet 
he was much in favor witli the magistracy.” 

* It is still a requirement in the Reformed (Dutch) Church 
in America — the lineal descendant of the Reformed Church 
in the Netherlands — that the pastor of a church preach on a 
division (called “ Lord’s Day”) of the Heidelberg Catechism 
about once a month, so as to complete the fifty-two Lord’s days 
within every four years. — Translator. 


AT THE TOWN-HALL. 


299 


word concerning the saving truths and high mys- 
teries of election and original sin, — such a man we 
must indeed, compelled by the authorities, recognize 
as a colleague in the ministerial office, but, unless 
the Lord converts him, we must designate him as 
a free-thinker or liberal, and cannot call him one 
of us.” 

“ I believe, reverend sir, that your zeal carries 
you a little too far and makes your judgment one- 
sided. I have several times heard Mr. Duifhuis 
preach, and was much edified by his discourses.” 

The head-sheriff had the power to compel Sopin- 
gius not to denounce his colleague, but this course 
was not advisable, as the preacher was a zealous 
laborer in spreading the knowledge of the pure 
gospel in the midst of the prevailing Romish 
superstitions, and as suoh stood high in favor with 
Count John of Nassau. Besides, he hoped to effect 
by gentleness and reason what force would certainly 
fail to accomplish. He therefore continued : 

“ I doubt, worthy sir, whether, upon the ground 
of Christian love and forbearance, you have a right 
to treat Mr. Duifhuis as you do. This, at all 
events, is certain : your colleague preaches Christ, 
and, although he may not do so in just the way you 
would wish, I believe you could sooner persuade 
him to your own mode of thinking by showing 
him brotherly love and fellowship than by de- 
nouncing him. I have lately learned that you, in 


300 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


the name of your consistory, have brought accusa- 
tion against him before the churches of Amsterdam, 
Delft, Dordrecht, Schniedam and others, to the effect 
that he was a person ‘ who hindered the dawning 
of the light of truth/ calling him 6 an occasion and 
a defender of indecency and of godless opinions, a 
despiser of Christian order and discipline/ * This 
is wrong, Mr. Sopingius, and must not be repeated. 
Did not Paul rejoice that in every way Christ was 
preached ? It was he, too, who wrote that ‘ charity 
suffereth long, thinketh no evil, rejoice th in the 
truth, hopeth all things, endureth all things/ 
Truly, reverend sir, I assure you that the author- 
ities observe with deep grief these contentions, and 
wish nothing more fervently than that unitedly and 
in love you labor together. By this you will greatly 
advance the interests of the Church, whilst, on the 
other hand, continuing as you have done hitherto, 
you will give the Romanists occasion to profit by 
your dissensions. I charge you, therefore, solemnly, 
to endeavor to practice a more fraternal intercourse 
with Mr. Duifhuis, and request you to convey this 
my desire to your colleague Mr. Helmichius. I 
wish now to discuss some other matters with you. 
The city authorities have received a writing from 
your consistory, embracing a petition that the entire 
St. Nicholas church — of which now you use a part 

* These words are historical, found in archives of the Church 
relating to these times. 


AT THE TOWN-HALL. 


301 


— and the Minderbrethren church be placed at their 
disposal.” 

“ I deem this request a very reasonable one, Sir 
Sheriff, for our audiences are growing far beyond 
the accommodations now furnished them.” 

“ I am aware of it,” replied Mr. Van Reede, 
“but hitherto we have not been able to see our 
way clear to grant the request, for the union accords 
freedom of worship to every denomination of Chris- 
tians. But I am of the opinion that we shall unex- 
pectedly be given a good opportunity for extending 
the privileges of the Reformed. The Romanists are 
becoming very restless, and are being instigated by 
their preachers and other ecclesiastics to under- 
take to assert themselves here as their brethren in 
the faith did at Amersfoort. I fear I shall have to 
request their preachers to remove themselves to a 
distance, and in that case I shall be in a condition 
to comply with the petition of the consfetory.” 

“We shall be very grateful, Sir Sheriff; our 
Church would then attain still greater prosperity: 
the Romanists hinder us greatly. We shall put 
our confidence in God, however, and pray for our 
lawful authorities that they may be blessed in the 
support of the good cause.” 

“ I have another matter, reverend sir,” remarked 
the head-sheriff, taking a folded document from 
the table and hastily opening it and running his 
eyes over its contents. 


302 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“ Be pleased to let me know what it is, Your 
Worship/’ said Sopingius. 

“ I will put it to you in the form of a request/’ 
observed Mr. Van Reede, taking up another paper 
and noting down a few words. “ Have the kind- 
ness to recall to your mind an occurrence that 
took place fourteen years ago.” 

Fourteen years ago’?” asked Sopingius, in sur- 
prise, endeavoring to collect his thoughts. “ I 
really cannot recall anything that would have 
made such a lasting impression. Be so good, 
therefore, as to aid me with a hint or two.” 

Mr. Goert van Reede again consulted the paper 
in his hand, and said, 

“ Do you not remember that you were at that 
time in Gelderland, returning from a journey on 
foot to Munster?” 

“ Yes, I remember that very well ; but to what 
circumstance of that journey have you reference?” 

“ You were, as I am informed, on a certain day 
in the vicinity of Doetichem, on the road to Does- 
burg, when you met a young woman with a child 
in her arms. Do you recollect that?” 

“Yes, very well indeed,” answered Sopingius, 
awaking as from a dream. 

“ Be so kind, then, as to tell me all about it; for 
it has relation to a very serious allair. How did 
this woman look?” 

“ She seemed very youthful, and, to judge from 


AT THE TOWN-HALL. 


303 


her apparel, she must have belonged to a high 
station, if not to the nobility itself. I found her 
sitting under a tree. The child in her arms was 
crying vehemently, but, instead of quieting it, she 
shook it somewhat roughly. I asked her where 
she lived and why she did not soothe the child, 
but she uttered only incoherent words ; so that I 
at once concluded that she was out of her mind.” 

“ And do you not recolléct any of these words?” 

“ Yes, but I should most certainly have forgotten 
them had I not been reminded of them a few years 
afterward ; for when I came to this city, I heard of 
Castle Vlooswyk, and it at once occurred to me that 
this woman several times repeated that name.” 

“ Did she speak of nothing else ?” 

“ Yes, of many other things, but so incoherently 
that I could make no sense of them, and have for- 
gotten them. I pitied her much, and especially the 
child, which continued to cry. I asked her to arise 
and accompany me, hoping to find proper entertain- 
ment for her in a village in the neighborhood, but 
she was not to be moved to this. Suddenly there 
were heard voices of men approaching us. These 
sounds seemed to startle her, for she sprang up, 
and, in spite of my efforts to detain her, she tore 
herself from my grasp and escaped with her child. 
I followed her with my eyes, and saw her sur- 
rounded by men, who forced the child from her 
and conducted her into the woods.” 


304 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“And did you see nothing more of them ?” 

“ Not that day. I lost myself in fruitless sur- 
mises, but, as they came to nothing definite, I 
would very likely have dismissed the whole cir- 
cumstance from my mind if I had not been re- 
minded of it two days afterward.” 

“ Relate with especial care and particularity what 
you then saw,” said Mr. Goert van Reede, who had 
taken notes while Mr. Sopingius was speaking. 

“ I was then,” he continued, “ in the neighborhood 
of a certain hamlet, and had taken refuge from the 
heat, which was somewhat oppressive, under the 
shadow of some birch trees, when I saw a per- 
son — evidently a nobleman — coming on horseback. 
A few moments later I perceived that he was ap- 
proached by several men. Two of them I at once 
recognized as of those who had overtaken the 
woman, forced the child from her and led her 
away. After the nobleman had conversed with 
one of these men for a length of time they gave 
the child to him, whereupon he rode away at full 
speed.” 

Mr. Goert van Reede carefully noted down all 
this, and then, turning again to the worthy Sopin- 
gius, he inquired, 

“ Have you ever met this woman since ?” 

“ No, Your Honor.” 

“ Nor the nobleman ?” 

“ Nor him — at least, not that I remember.” 


AT THE TOWN-HALL. 


305 


“ But would you recognize him if you should 
meet him again ?” 

“ I have no doubt I should, for, although many 
years have passed since that day, his features are 
still vividly before my mind.” 

“I tell you in confidence, reverend sir,” observed 
the head-sheriff, with deep seriousness, “ that we are 
on the track of a great crime, and that you may be 
of vast service to us in bringing the perpetrator to 
justice. May I ask you, therefore, to come here 
again day after to-morrow at about this same 
hour? You may possibly then meet the person 
who rode away with the child.” 

“ That nobleman ?” 

“ The same. But it will not be necessary to tell 
you that you are not to let him notice your recog- 
nition of him.” 

“Not in the least, Sir Sheriff. I shall be happy 
to be of any service to the authorities. The crime, 
if any is found to exist, must be punished. The 
Lord will see to that, for nothing is hid from his 
sight.” 

Mr. Goert van Reede now thanked the clergy- 
man, who, comprehending that the official had no 
further business with him, arose. The sheriff 
pressed his visitor’s hand in parting, and, con- 
ducting him to the door of the chamber, took 
cordial leave of him. 

20 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


COUNTERPLOTS. 

R ETURNING to his chair, Mr. Goert van 
Reede pulled a bell-cord suspended over the 
table. A servant entered the chamber. 

“ Has the young man arrived whom I told you 
to summon ?” 

“ Yes, Your Honor ; he has been waiting nearly 
half an hour in the reception-room.” 

“Ask him to come up at once,” said the head- 
sheriff. 

The servant disappeared, and a few moments later 
Walter Harmsen entered the apartment. Walter po- 
litely greeted the official, who returned the greeting 
and offered him a chair. 

“ May I ask your name?” began Mr. Goert Van 
Reede, fixing a scrutinizing glance upon Walter. 

“ Walter Harmsen.” 

“ Your birthplace ?” 

“ Haarlem.” 

“ Your father?” 

“ Deceased, Your Honor.” 

“ What was his occupation?” 

306 


COUNTERPLOTS. 


307 


“ Preacher of the gospel.” 

“To which congregation?” 

“To every creature, Your Honor,” replied Wal- 
ter, modestly. 

“ A rather extensive congregation, that, truly,” 
observed Mr. Van Reede, with a smile. 

“Very true, Sir Sheriff; but if this larger con- 
gregation were better remembered, there would be 
more preaching of the gospel, for now one place is, 
so to speak, overloaded with preachers, and another 
suffers from the lack of them.” 

“ Your observation is not without some force, but 
this fault will gradually be remedied. Our Church 
is still in its infancy; it is a tender plant which 
will not yet bear much transplanting. May I ask 
you in what official relation you stand to the 
Church ?” 

“ In none whatever, Your Honor.” 

“In no relation at all?” asked Mr. Van Reede, 
surprised. “ Do you, then, disapprove of her con- 
fessions ?” 

“ By no means, Sir Sheriff, but my father was a 
traveling evangelist, and I am fain to walk in his 
footsteps.” 

“ Well, it is a good son that would be like a good 
father,” said Mr. Goert, smiling approvingly and 
taking up some papers. Having looked them over, 
he inquired, “ Are you acquainted with a certain 
Ensign Gapertz of the States’ army?” 


308 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


“ Yes, Your Honor. He was a friend of my 
boyhood-days, and, although many years passed 
without our seeing each other, our friendship is 
of a kind that cannot easily be dissolved.” 

“Do you know the nature of his errand here?” 

This question, though politely spoken, was accom- 
panied by a searching look which caused Walter 
no little embarrassment. If he should reveal 
what Dirk Gapertz had told him, he might be dis- 
closing something which the latter had related under 
the seal of confidence. He reflected a moment, and 
then said, 

“ I know that he is here by command of the 
director of the union, and surmise, accordingly, 
that he bears a message relating to its affairs.” 

“Ah !” dryly observed Mr. Van Reede, and 
stroked his beard meditatively, while he contem- 
plated the youth some time in silence and then 
asked, “ Do you know the lord of Vlooswyk ?” 

“No, Your Honor; I have never exchanged 
words with him.” 

“ I have, however, been informed that you fre- 
quent the vicinity of the castle. What draws you 
there?” 

Fortunately for Walter, Mr. Van Reede had again 
turned his eyes upon a document in his hands, and 
before he lifted them the blush that had suffused 
the young man’s countenance had vanished. He 
replied quietly : 


COUNTERPLOTS. 


309 


“ I go there from time to time to visit the country- 
people of that neigh borhood.” 

“ Indeed !” remarked the official. “And are you 
not acquainted with any of the inmates of the 
castle?” 

“ With only one of them.” 

“And this is — ” 

“ The ward of Lord John van Vlooswyk.” 

“ What is her name?” 

“ Jacoba,” replied Walter, not without some con- 
fusion. 

Mr. Van Reede was again consulting his papers. 

“ Exactly ! exactly !” he muttered to himself. 
“It must be she.” Making a note or two, he 
turned to Walter and inquired, 

“ Did you never speak to her about her parents?” 

“‘ About her parents’?” asked Walter, astonished. 
“ I thought she was an orphan.” 

“Perhaps she is,” observed Mr. Van Reede, “yet 
she might have mentioned whether she felt the loss 
of her parents, and especially that of her mother. 
Did she never do so?” 

“ I cannot recollect that she did.” 

“ No ?” said the sheriff, examining a paper which 
contained a report of what his emissaries had seen 
and heard at Vlooswyk the day before. “ Did you 
not yesterday encounter a crazed woman at the house 
of the forester of Vlooswyk ?” 

The question struck Walter like a sudden revela- 


310 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


tion. Putting these questions together, he began to 
comprehend that the demented woman might stand 
in some relation to Jacoba’s past history. He replied 
in the affirmative. 

“ Will you be so kind as to relate to me the par- 
ticulars of the encounter ?” 

Walter readily complied, and told all he knew. 

“And do you know who were those men who 
pursued this woman ?” 

Walter replied that he did not know where they 
made their abode, but that he recognized them as 
the same who had assaulted the ensign Gapertz in 
the Vrede inn, and that they were Anabaptists. 

Mr. Van Reede busily plied his pen to add to his 
already voluminous notes and was about to put 
another question to Walter, when a somewhat 
violent knocking was heard upon the door of the 
chamber. The head-sheriff called, “ Come in !” 
when, ushered by the servant, the young ensign 
made his appearance, to the great surprise of both 
inmates of the room. 

Dirk Gapertz saluted the official politely and 
cordially pressed his friend Walter’s hand. After 
taking due leave, the latter left the chamber. 

“ Pardon me, Sir Sheriff,” said the ensign, “ for 
taking the liberty of disturbing you in your con- 
ference with my friend, but I have been waiting 
quite a while, and the affairs that brought me here 
ask speed.” 


COUNTERPLOTS. 


311 


“ And what are they ?” inquired Mr. Goert van 
Reede, with the utmost calmness. 

“ First of all,” eagerly continued the youthful 
officer, “ I have received information that matters 
have come to an open conflict at Amersfoort. I 
fear the scenes of the image-breakings of 1566 
will be repeated. I came here to consult you about 
this.” 

“But, my dear ensign,” said Mr. Van Reede, “I 
should think that the troops under Count John of 
Nassau are fully able to contend with the rioters, 
and will need no aid from us.” 

“ I do not mean that, Your Honor, but I deem 
it of the last importance to take prompt measures 
here in this city; riots are infectious, and spread 
often from place to place. I do not think I go 
beyond my instructions if I urge it upon you to 
call the militia under arms as speedily as possible, to 
prevent our being surprised by a sudden attack. I 
urge it the more since I have learned that Lord 
John van Vlooswyk — ” 

“‘Lord John van Vlooswyk*?” observed Mr. 
Van Reede. “ What has he to do with this affair?” 

“ He was recently at Amerfoort, and is known 
to have stirred up the people through the clergy. 
But I know also for a certainty that he had a 
conference here with the two priests of the convent 
of Our Lady and Dr. William van der Eyke with 
a view to effecting an uprising in this city.” 


312 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


“ I admire your ingenuity in discovering these 
facts,” remarked the head-sheriff. “ Truly, if all 
Count John of Nassau's officers are as quickwitted 
as you, I congratulate the union. I must inform 
you, however, that I had already gained informa- 
tion regarding these very matters, and I believe 
the measures I have taken will meet with your 
approval. Here, at least, is evidence that I have 
not been idle this morning, but have watched over 
the interests of the citizens.” He handed the en- 
sign a paper summoning the officers of the militia 
to a conference that very day. “ I have enjoined 
the commander-in-chief of the militia to consult 
with you about all the arrangements, and I shall 
expect you to report to me the condition of affairs 
at least twice a day. I would suggest that the 
road to Amersfoort have the most of your care, 
since we may expect our worst danger from that 
direction.” 

“ With your permission, Sir Sheriff,” replied the 
ensign, “ I do not think we need to look for our 
chief danger on that side; it is more likely that the 
city is threatened by an attack from a band of 
Anabaptists who have been bribed to take part in 
this riot.” 

“ I have had them in mind also,” remarked Mr. 
Van Reede, “ and I have given orders that whoever « 
of their number, armed or unarmed, are seen about 
or in the city shall at once be imprisoned. But 


COUNTERPLOTS. 


313 


you had another matter concerning which you 
desired to speak, said you not?” 

“ Yes, Your Honor; it has reference to the crime 
of which we are on the track. I have proofs at 
command that Lord Gerard van Vlooswyk has not 
been put to death, as we suspected, but that he is 
alive, although at the mercy of his jailers, who may 
despatch him at any moment.” 

“And where is he kept ?” 

“ In the convent of Our Lady. Yesterday I was 
visiting the library of the archbishop ; I met a ven- 
erable old man there, the librarian, Father Bon- 
iface. He showed me a number of remarkable 
manuscripts and interesting books, and gradually 
we were led into earnest conversation ; I found 
that he was not far from the truth as we hold it. 
Thus talking, I seemed to have commended myself 
to his confidence ; for when we happened to speak 
of Lord John van Vlooswyk, he told me some- 
thing that made my hair stand on end.” 

Mr. Goert van Reede listened with intense in- 
terest to the recital by the ensign of all that he had 
heard from Father Boniface’s lips, and which our 
readers already know. 

“ The point now is,” said the ensign, eagerly, 
“ to penetrate to the prisoner’s cell and deliver 
him from the hands of his tormentors.” 

“ Exactly,” said Mr. Van Reede. “ But we have 
need of great caution in this business. Lord John 


314 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


van Vlooswyk is a powerful noble, and the priests 
are shrewd; the least indiscretion will spoil the whole 
affair.” The head-sheriff remained for some time 
in deep thought, and finally said, “ I must care- 
fully consider this affair, and 1 request you to re- 
turn hither this afternoon to receive instructions 
regarding a plan which I think we shall have 
to follow. We shall need to use wisdom in out- 
doing these skillful plotters.” 

“ I shall return,” said the ensign. “ Till then 
farewell, Sir Sheriff ;” and, bowing politely, the 
ensign departed. 

A few minutes later Mr. Van Reede pulled the 
bell-cord ; and when the servant appeared, he 
handed him a paper, saying : 

“ Take this immediately to the commandant of 
the militia.” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


A FRIGHTENED PRIEST. 

ATTHILE Mr. Goert van Reede was maturing his 
* » plans and taking well-considered measures, En- 
sign Dirk Gapertz watched the road to Amers- 
foort, whose ecclesiastics were making common 
cause with those of Utrecht in order to make 
one supreme effort to regain the lost cause, and to 
this end were conspiring with Lord John van 
Vlooswyk and the Anabaptists. Walter Harmsen 
was wending his steps to the house of Farmer 
Dykerts to preach the gospel to an audience that 
was to meet upon one of his fields, and Father 
Boniface was seated in the convent library. 

The weather was beautiful, and, although the 
cathedral-clock had sounded forth five strokes, the 
air was almost as warm and balmy as if it were 
still noon. The pious Father was busy, with Joris 
Ruikmans’s help, gathering parchments together, as 
he contemplated some changes in the arrangement 
of the books. They had been thus engaged for 
some hours, and the continued heat compelled them 
to seek a little rest. The aged Boniface seated him- 

315 


316 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


self upon a bench, and, resting his head upon his 
hands, he gave himself up to silent meditation. 
He took no notice of the constant chattering of the 
dwarf, who walked restlessly to and fro and vainly 
tried every means to engage him in conversation. 
This caused Joris much chagrin. Finally he got 
up on a small bench, directly in front of the monk, 
raising himself thus to a level with his face, and 
stood there, as much as to say, “ I remain here till 
you speak to me.” 

“ I think we shall have a thunder-storm after this 
warm weather/ 7 he began, once more. 

No answer. 

“ I should not be surprised if a storm breaks out 
both over and withiu the city, for it is so very still 
everywhere. I should not wonder if a pretty bad 
shower would blow over this way from Amersfoort. 
The heretics are getting very much excited, although 
I doubt not but our own clergy are anything but easy 
to endure. And, as to Lord John van Vlooswyk, 
he is brewing some mischief, I warrant; but he 
will have me to deal with yet, as true as my 
name is Joris Ruikmans. What do you say to 
that, Father ?” 

Father Boniface made no reply. 

Now, any one else would have been considerate 
enough to leave the old man to his own thoughts 
and let him rest from his weariness, but Joris 
Ruikmans seemed born to torment people. He 


A FRIGHTENED PRIEST. 


317 


was too conceited to suppose it possible that any 
one could have no delight in his gossip, and so he 
kept on talking. He chose a subject of conversa- 
tion which he felt assured would arouse the worthy 
Fathers attention. 

“ I have been on the watch how to obtain access 
to the prisoner, and, although I have not succeeded 
in this, I have now the means of getting to him. 
Last night, after vespers, I hid myself in a niche, 
and saw Priest Waenders pass bv me with a flask 
of water and some bread. When he had gone a 
few paces, I followed him as noiselessly as I could 
as far as the iron door, which he locked behind him; 
so that I could go no farther. I listened, but I was 
too far away to hear what he said to the prisoner, 
and, fearing he would soon return, I retreated and 
hid myself again within the niche. I saw now that 
the priest was in possession of the keys, and that 
all I had to do was to get these from him ; and it 
was not long before I had hit upon a plan. A 
happy thought occurred to me — ” 

“And what was that ?” interrupted Father Boni- 
face, lifting his head. 

The dwarf was not a little rejoiced to perceive 
that he had finally succeeded in engaging the silent 
monk in conversation. He continued: 

“One who is not strong must be sly. I have 
long held a grudge against that conceited priest, 
and I mean to get even with him.” 


318 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“That is wrong. A revengeful spirit indicates 
an evil heart.” 

“That may be,” observed Joris; “but I got 
what I wanted, at any rate. For look,” he con- 
tinued, drawing a bunch of keys from the pocket 
of his breeches ; “ here they are. Only let it get 
dark to-night; and when all is quiet, I know who 
will go with me to the prisoner’s cell.” 

“Tell me how you managed to secure those keys?” 
inquired the Father, astonished and delighted. 

“That I will do,” said the dwarf, piling a few 
books upon the bench and seating himself on the 
top. “ You know that Mr. Waenders’s cell is next 
to the oratory ; you know, also, that in accordance 
with some vow he comes to this oratory every night 
just before retiring and tells the beads of two rosa- 
ries, a prayer for each bead, before the image of St. 
Servatius. Yesterday morning I happened to be in 
this oratory, and saw a mechanic — evidently a stone- 
cutter — taking the image from its pedestal in order 
to repair some little injury. Accidentally the image 
fell, and its left arm was broken. The stone-cutter 
was in great terror, and besought me to say nothing 
of it and he would be sure to replace it, all repaired, 
before evening. I promised to keep the accident a 
secret, and the man left with the image. He did 
not bring it back, however, before evening ; perhaps 
he could not get it done.” 

“ I cannot imagine,” interrupted Father Boniface, 


A FRIGHTENED PRIEST. 


319 


with some impatience, “ why you trouble me with 
this idle gossip. What do I care about the break- 
ing of this image or its restoration? What has 
that to do with the keys?” 

“ But I must tell you all that led me to my ex- 
ploit,” observed Joris, a little offended. “ It was 
just this neglect of the stone-cutter which enabled 
me to carry out my plan.” 

“How so?” inquired the Father, his curiosity 
once more aroused. 

“ Well, while I was hiding there in the niche, 
trying to think of some way to secure the keys, St. 
Servatius occurred to me. The idea struck me at 
once : I might as well personate St. Servatius for 
an hour or so ; then I would save the stone-cutter 
some trouble, and perhaps accomplish what I wished. 
So thought, so done. I quickly left my hiding- 
place and went to my bedroom to fetch a sheet ; for, 
you remember, St. Servatius is represented covered 
with a white garment. I then betook myself 
stealthily to the oratory, climbing from the kneel- 
ing-bench upon the holy-water font, and from that 
I succeeded in reaching the vacant pedestal of the 
saint. I wrapped the sheet carefully about me and, 
as nearly as possible assuming St. Servatius’s atti- 
tude, waited the coming of his devout priest. I was 
not very much afraid of detection, for the feeble 
blaze of the single wax candle he generally lights 
would scarcely enable the near-sighted priest to dis- 


320 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


tinguish the true from the false saint. I soon heard 
footsteps, and a few moments after the priest entered 
the room — as I thought, somewhat disturbed in his 
manner — and carefully bolted the door. His face 
was very pale, and I saw by the feeble light of the 
candle that on the way to the oratory he must have 
encountered something which had startled, and even 
frightened, him. This suited me exactly, for his 
nerves would thus be in the right condition to 
get him still more badly frightened.” 

“ The evil-doer trembles always, even at the 
least unwonted noise, and usually when there is 
the least danger,” observed Boniface. 

“No doubt,” assented Joris. “But let me go 
on. To my joy, I saw him lay a bunch of keys 
upon a little table near the door, and, taking his 
rosary, he began to pace up and down the room, 
muttering something under his breath. He then 
approached the kneeling-bench, sprinkled himself 
with holy water and kneeled devoutly, bending his 
head low. I had held my breath up to this moment, 
but now I drew a deep sigh. ‘ What is that?’ said 
the priest, turning his head. Of course I said 
nothing, but fetched another deep sigh, followed 
by a third and a fourth. The terror of the priest 
increased with every sigh I drew, and I plainly saw 
how gladly he would have rushed from the apart- 
ment were it not that he seemed to dread a greater 
danger without. I gloried in his plight, for he had 


A FRIGHTENED PRIEST. 


321 


more than deserved it for all his insulting remarks 
about my small stature. I thought to myself, ‘ What 
a great fright does little Joris give you now !’ 

“ Pretty soon I ventured upon another expedient. 
Changing my voice to make it sound as if it came 
from the floor, I spoke the priest’s name. His 
terror was getting beyond all bounds. He left 
the kneeling-bench and shrunk into a corner. 
Perceiving that my voice had not betrayed me, 
I called his name again, somewhat louder, and he 
put his fingers into his ears. Now I judged that 
the time for the crisis had come. By another 
change of voice I made him involuntarily look 
up, when I gently waved my sheet back and forth. 
I then with an awful voice pronounced his doom ; 
and when I saw that he trembled in every limb, I 
suddenly sprang from my pedestal. He uttered 
one fearful yell, and then fell prostrate upon the 
•floor. I quickly extinguished the candle, seized 
the keys, unbolted the door and hastened to my 
room.” 

“And what has happened since?” inquired Bon- 
iface, with eager interest. 

“ What happened further during that night I do 
not know, but this morning the news is going the 
rounds that the worthy Mr. Waenders was found 
lying in a swoon in the oratory, and is even now 
scarcely able to utter a word. He was paralyzed 
with fright.” 


322 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


“ That comes from your wicked trick,” said Father 
Boniface. “ Who knows but it may have a fatal 
result?” 

“ Oh, I do not think the consequences will be so 
serious. What he is suffering now he has richly 
deserved.” 

“ Leave it to God to render him his deserts.” 

“I am perfectly willing to do that,” remarked 
the imperturbable Joris, “ as long as I have given 
him something by way of foretaste. He will 
doubtless recover soon, for his worthy colleague is 
forcing one drug after another down his throat. I 
do not think that my trick — fortunately for me — 
will be discovered : early this morning the stone-cut- 
ter must have restored the image to its place, for 
I found it upon its pedestal, safe and sound, when I 
looked into the oratory. So, then, if Mr. Waenders 
is capable of relating anything of his experience, 
very likely it will be thought that a miracle has 
happened or that the worthy man fell asleep upon 
the kneeling- bench and has dreamed the whole 
affair. But the great thing is that I now have 
access to the prisoner, and as soon as night has 
come — Or perhaps you disapprove of my trick 
so greatly that you would wish me to restore the 
keys, and will refuse to go with me this night 
and use them to set that poor man free?” 

“ Certainly not, certainly not, Joris ! Of course 
I am glad you have the keys, and most assuredly 


A FRIGHTENED PRIEST. 


323 


will I accompany you to-night. Let us now hurry 
and finish our work.” 

“ Hurrah !” shouted Joris, tossing the bunch of 
keys into the air and then carefully depositing them 
in his pocket. 

The two then resumed their labors. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

PREACHING IN THE OPEN AIR. 

T HE farmer Dykerts was standing in the door- 
way of his barn looking intently up into the 
sky and shielding his eyes with his hand from the 
rays of the setting sun. While thus engaged Wal- 
ter approached, unobserved by him ; he laid his 
hand upon the worthy peasant’s shoulder, and 
said gently, 

“ What are you looking at, Dykerts? Have 
you no good expectations from the appearance of 
the heavens ? Yet from that direction, it seems to 
me, comes every good and perfect gift.” 

“ Ah, Mr. Harmsen ! you are welcome. I am 
glad to see you ; I had expected to see you earlier. 
Yes, you are right: * Every good and perfect gift 
cometh from above.’ I was looking toward the 
south ; near the horizon, in the south-east, I notice 
some clouds which threaten a thunder-storm. But 
it may blow over; it would really be a pity if the 
people were to be disappointed this evening.” 

“ Be not unnecessarily troubled, Dykerts ; the 
Lord must order it as seemeth him best. He will 


324 


PREACHING IN THE OPEN ATR. 325 


bless our endeavors, whether we are prevented 
from meeting together this evening or not. Let 
us hope and pray that the Lord will pour out 
his Spirit upon these deluded multitudes and their 
deceivers, so that many may accept the word of 
salvation. But let us enter the house. Did you 
give wide notice of the meeting ?” 

“Yes, Mr. Harmsen,” answered the peasant, 
entering the house with Walter. “ People are 
coming from far and near — from every village in 
this vicinity, from Heyschoten, Zeist and Soest. I 
expect a great multitude. I believe some are com- 
ing even from Amersfoort. I do not expect many 
from Vlooswyk, however; something unusual is 
about to take place there. A few hours ago one of 
my farm-hands came from there and told me he had 
seen a number of suspicious characters thereabouts, 
and this afternoon he saw in our neighborhood 
those two men who gave your friend so much 
trouble in the Vrede inn. He knows them well.” 

“ You mean those two Anabaptists who pursued 
the crazed woman to the house of the forester yes- 
terday ?” 

“ The same. Their names are, as my man tells 
me, Cornelis Koen and Gysbert Barends. We had 
better bear this in mind and seek to stop their rov- 
ings hereabout. When such fellows as they are 
around, there is usually some rascality on foot.” 

“ Be not alarmed, Dykerts ; they can do no more 


326 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


than our heavenly Father will permit. But have 
you heard whether the heiress of Vlooswyk is 
coming?” 

“No. But here comes the host of the Vrede 
inn ; perhaps he can give us further news.” 

The next comer was indeed the host, whom 
perhaps our readers have not forgotten. He greeted 
our friends warmly, but gave them no very encour- 
aging information. He had encountered on the 
road many suspicious-looking people and many 
that were armed. 

“As far as I am concerned,” he remarked, “I 
prefer peace; that’s the reason I gave my inn that 
name. Peace is best for everybody.” 

“ I think the same,” said Dykerts. “ But there 
does not seem to be much chance of our getting 
peace just now; every where except in Holland the 
banner of war is still unfurled. The Spaniards have 
indeed been forced to abandon Kampen and Deven- 
ter, but who knows how soon they may recover 
those places ? and then our province will be again 
exposed to their invasion. I wish that God would 
soon grant peace throughout our whole country.” 

“And yet you can hardly expect that he will, 
Dykerts,” observed Walter. “You know what is 
the cause of this war. Is it not because Spain 
would not let us serve the Lord Jesus Christ as 
we wished ? As long as our country was content to 
remain under the tyranny of Spanish and Romish 


PREACHING IN THE OPEN AIR. 327 


oppression, as long as men would adore the Virgin 
Mary and a host of saints, so long we had rest and 
quietness ; but no sooner did men allow themselves 
to be enlightened by the truth than the enemy 
aroused himself and declared war. The whole 
war is to us Christians summed up in one word 
— the truth, or no truth. Often . what men call 
‘ peace/ whether in the home, the State, the Church 
or the individual heart, is nothing but the peace of 
a person who has fallen asleep upon a sinking ship. 
As long as we remain upon this earth there will be 
something for us to do battle against.” 

“ Your words are startling, Mr. Harmsen,” said 
the innkeeper, “yet I can understand that in the 
way you mean them you are right. Methinks, 
from that standpoint, I had better change my sign.” 

“Oh, let it hang as it is,” spoke Dykerts; “it 
will do no harm to remind people that peace is 
desirable. Tell us : did you hear whether Lady 
Jacoba is coming to the preaching?” 

“ Certainly ; I was told she was coming with her 
nurse and the forester’s wife. If I am not mistaken, 
I see them approaching yonder.” 

All looked through the window and saw that the 
innkeeper had seen aright : Lady Jacoba, her maid 
and the wife of the forester were drawing near the 
house. 

From every direction the people now began to 
gather, disposing themselves upon the soft grass 


328 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


under the fruit trees which surrounded Dykerts’s 
house. The heiress of Vlooswyk and her compan- 
ions, however, entered the house and came into the 
room where Walter and the two men were seated. 
Walter greeted Jacoba with the deference due to her 
station, but she, yielding to the simple and child- 
like impulse of jier heart, held out to him both her 
hands. But her womanly instinct suddenly checked 
her first impulse; she blushed deeply, and, drawing 
back her hands, she said, 

“ Pardon me, Mr. Walter, but I know you will 
overlook my childishness. I am so happy when I 
see you that I almost forget to act with the proper 
dignity and the respect due to you.” 

“ I have nothing to forgive,” said Walter, smil- 
ing. He knew how little joy and comfort, young 
as she was, fell to her lot in earthly matters; he 
knew that her affection was but that of a sister 
toward a brother, and that it was a comfort to her 
to learn from him the ways of that Lord upon 
whose service her heart was set. He took her hand, 
therefore, and, pressing it cordially, continued : 

“ I also am rejoiced to see you here. I was 
almost afraid that you would be hindered in com- 
ing. Did not Lord John van Vlooswyk — ” 
Jacoba’s blush vanished from her cheeks and left 
them deadly pale at the question : 

“ Do not mention that name here and now, for 
it fills me with terror whenever I hear it. I know 


PREACHING IN THE OPEN AIR. 329 


not how it is, but within the last few clays I feel 
like a hunted deer. My guardian — whom, fortu- 
nately, I see but seldom — gives me little attention, 
but I have a presentiment that he is devising some 
scheme to injure me.” 

“ He shall not be permitted to do you any hurt, 
my dear lady. Remember God^ promises ; be of 
good courage. The Lord is your Shepherd ; you 
shall not want !” 

While thus comforting Jacoba and addressing 
kindly words of Christian encouragement to the 
other women, Walter was interrupted by Dykerts, 
who had left the room and returned again, and 
who whispered something in his ear. 

“ You are right Dykerts,” said Walter. “ I am 
ready ; I am coming.” He left the house, followed 
by the peasant and the women. 

The orchard was black with people, who were 
scattered about in picturesque groups. They all 
seemed to be engaged in conversation of a serious 
nature, for several voices were heard speaking in 
earnest tones, and on passing a small group of men 
Walter heard such expressions as the following: 

“ I shall be surprised if the evening pass without 
disturbance.” 

“ Let them come, those ruffians !” 

“ Whoever dares attack this meeting will have 
me to deal with !” 

u And me ! and me !” was heard from all direc- 


330 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


tions, and many flourished firearms or long knives, 
showing that they were prepared for an assault. 

The place which had been selected for the preach- 
ing-service was certainly well adapted to the pur- 
pose. On several sides the space was bordered by 
low underbrush, back of which rose the loftier 
trees of the forest, which prevented the voice of 
the preacher from being lost to the people on the 
outskirts of the audience. But if the eye of any 
one could have penetrated the surrounding woods, 
he would have perceived numbers of armed men 
approaching stealthily from various directions and 
creeping through the underbrush toward the listen- 
ing multitude. Dykerts had unconsciously spoken 
the truth when he said that there would be a storm 
before the day was over. 

Walter, in the mean time, had reached the spot 
where he was to stand and address the people. 
After silently and briefly sending up a prayer to 
God for aid, he climbed up on a broad table which 
had been placed under a spreading linden tree. 
The men reverently uncovered their heads as 
Walter opened a small Bible. The Lady Jacoba 
and her companions stood near, and carefully treas- 
ured up every word he spoke. 

“ My dear hearers,” began the youth, with a 
clear and forcible voice, “ there are, alas ! many 
people — and certainly also among this very audience 
some — who, without knowing it, are really unbe- 





Field-preaching in Holland. 


Page 330. 


/ 















"Mj 


















’ 
























































































• 







































































m 








♦ 

• 



'♦ 





PREACHING IN THE OPEN AIR. 331 


lievers. These have no true conception of an om- 
niscient, holy and eternal God whose eyes are in 
every place, beholding the evil and the good. 
There are, indeed, some who live and act as if 
there were no God who will call them to account 
for their actions. But many who are more thought- 
ful than this, who give more or less attention to 
religion, do not, after all, know what God requires 
of them and what his service truly is. They de- 
pend upon their Church or upon the priests, as 
if these could take their place in serving God. 
Now, the word of God speaks as follows : ‘ For we 
must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ ; 
that every one may receive the things done in his 
body, according to that he hath done, whether it be 
good or bad/ Neither your Church — which you 
call your holy mother — nor your priests can obtain 
salvation for you; for the first must come to an 
end, and the latter are persons as sinful as we are. 
Trust not to these. Listen to what the scripture 
saith : we must give an account; we must appear 
before the judgment-seat of Christ. 

“He who would be saved must go with all his sins 
to God in the way that God himself has appoint- 
ed. This way is Jesus Christ, for he himself said : 
i I am the way, the truth and the life ;’ and again : 
1 1 am the door ; no man cometh unto the Father 
but by me/ How many overlook these truths! 
Many a one brought by the Holy Spirit to convic- 


332 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


tion of sin thinks that through this alone he is 
upon the way to God. Others go farther and feel 
sorrow for sin, thinking that this will more surely 
obtain the favor of the Lord. Others imagine that 
by abandoning old sins and forming new resolutions 
they can get close to the Lord and win his pardon. 

“ But all such forget that their salvation is not 
brought about by their feelings or works, but only 
bv the merits of Jesus Christ and merely of grace. 
Do you not see that all these personal affections and 
meritorious doings are exactly equivalent in spirit 
to the vows and penances and self-inflicted scourg- 
ings which the priests lay upon men? It is all a 
looking away from Christ and his doings and mer- 
its to something in us. 

“ I have shown you abundantly on former occasions 
how these external artificial works prescribed by 
the priests fail to give peace to the conscience, and 
how little they can please God ; but do not turn 
from these to other deceptions — the deceptions of 
your own hearts. Look only to Jesus, obey God in 
him, and you shall indeed turn from old sins and 
live better lives; yet not to claim heaven by these, 
but to show your gratitude to him for winning heav- 
en for you. In Jesus Christ alone is salvation: he 
who comes to the Father must come by him.” 

At this moment was heard a noise as if on 
every side branches were being broken off the trees. 
Walter ceased speaking and looked quickly around. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


THE ASSA ULT. 

A S Walter Harmsen, startled by the noise in the 
bushes, looked around, he perceived the now 
but too familiar features of the two Anabaptists 
with whom he had had such unpleasant encoun- 
ters before ; accompanied by many others, they were 
hastening through the underbrush immediately in 
his rear with the evident intention of seizing him. 
For a moment he hesitated, but the noise had been 
heard by others, and here and there men who stood 
nearest the forest called out, 

“We are betrayed ! Enemies are approaching 
us !” 

“ Where are they ? Where are they ?” cried 
many voices. 

“ Hid in the woods on this side,” cried the first, 
pointing in that direction. 

A number of men rushed into the bushes, but 
were speedily called back by cries on the opposite 
side : 

“ Here, mates ! Help, help ! We are attacked !” 
The whole audience now rose, and all eyes were 


334 


WALTER HARM SEN. 


turned to the spot whence these last cries proceeded. 
But in the same instant all perceived that they were 
beset, not on one side, but on all sides ; the multitude 
were surrounded by a body of men who waited but 
the word of command to rush, sword in hand, among 
them. Great confusion arose ; the one thought of 
all was to effect an escape. But whither should 
they escape? The way to Dykerts’s house alone 
was open, and what protection could that afford ? 

“Death to the heretics!” sounded a voice which 
made Jacoba tremble, for she knew it but too well. 
“ Kill every one you find here, but seize that arch- 
heretic there, the preacher, and bind him fast with 
strong cords,” the same commanding voice directed. 

But now the auditors were roused to their 
defence, for scarcely had these last words been 
spoken when several men drew their sharp knives 
and cried out, 

“ Let them come on ! We are ready for them.” 

Walter still stood irresolute upon the table; he 
cast a look heavenward and fervently prayed for 
deliverance. But by reason of the confusion and 
the swaying of the crowd the table was soon 
upset, and Walter would have fallen to the ground 
if Dykerts and the innkeeper had not caught him. 

“ Keep between us, Mr. Harmsen ; you are safe 
here. Do you not see that more than a score of 
men have gathered around us and will keep the 
enemy from touching you? We shall endeavor 


THE ASSAULT. 


335 


to gain the house and there see if we can’t elude 
them.” 

“ Cut them down ! Cut them down ! Shoot and 
kill !” was the cry now raised on every hand. 

The assailants obeyed the command, and fell 
upon the multitude; they seized the women and 
children and struck at the men with clubs and 
swords. The latter did not receive the blows 
passively, but, fearlessly defending their wives and 
children, they attacked the Anabaptists with staves 
and knives. 

Meanwhile, Walter followed Dykerts toward the 
house, whither he had seen Jacoba betake herself 
as soon as the disturbance began. She and her 
companions had almost reached the dwelling, when 
several men, led by Lord John van Vlooswyk, inter- 
rupted her flight. 

“ Seize those women !” commanded Lord John. 
— “And what do I see ? Are you here ?” he contin- 
ued, turning to Jacoba and giving her a look full 
of hatred and rage. “ You here among these low 
people ? I will now carry out my threat : to-mor- 
row you go to a convent in France. — Away with her, 
men ! Bind her upon a horse and take her to my 
castle.” 

The men proceeded to do as they were told. 
Jacoba, however, defended herself with extraordi- 
nary courage, but would have been compelled to 
yield very soon if assistance had not arrived at 


336 


WALTER HARMSEK 


tills juncture. Walter had seen the young lady’s 
peril, and, pointing this out to Dykerts and sev- 
eral other men, he pressed through the struggling 
masses, and reached Jacoba’s side in time to receive 
her into his arms as she was about to fall exhausted 
to the ground. This excited the rage of Lord John 
beyond all bounds ; unsheathing his sword, he was 
preparing to cleave Walter’s head, when Dykerts 
by a powerful blow with a club warded off the 
fatal stroke. The peasant then threw himself upon 
the nobleman. 

“ Spare him, Dykerts — spare him !” cried Walter. 
“Do not spill blood unnecessarily.” 

“ I will teach you to spare,” roared Lord John, 
who, dashing Dykerts to the ground with a single 
blow of his hand, seized Walter by the throat; 
and the young preacher would certainly have 
been throttled by the nobleman had not a number 
of his friends thrown themselves between them. 

Dykerts had quickly recovered himself, and while 
the others were busily engaged in a hand-to-hand 
encounter with Lord John and his immediate fol- 
lowers the peasant whispered to Walter, 

“ Escape with the lady to my house, and thence 
to Utrecht, while we hold these scoundrels at bay.” 

He then rushed into the fray and dealt stunning 
blows right and left, as if to wipe out the momen- 
tary disgrace of his overthrow. 

The fight became hot, but the advantage was on 


THE ASSAULT. 


337 


the side of the assailants, who acted more in con- 
cert than the surprised multitude. The innkeeper 
received a blow upon the arm which disabled him; 
others were surrounded or attacked in the rear 
while battling bravely; many were killed, and 
others driven to flight. Dykerts was left for dead 
in front of his own house door. But the fury of 
John van Vlooswyk may be imagined when, after 
the fight was over, not a trace was to be found 
of either Walter Harmsen or his ward. 

“ Leave these men to lie where they are,” he 
cried, with a voice trembling with anger; “ they will 
not give us any more trouble to-day. But where is 
the abductor of my ward? Where is that arch- 
heretic? Him w r e must have, alive or dead. 
Where is he?” 

“ He went into the house,” cried some. 

“ To the house, then, men !” commanded Lord John, 
pointing with outstretched sword in that direction. 

With a loud shout the mob rushed toward the 
building. 

" The doors are locked, Lord John,” exclaimed 
Cornelis Koen. 

“ Beat the doors down or else set the nest on fire, 
and then the birds will fly out,” replied the noble- 
man. 

“ The barn door is open,” shouted Gysbert Ba- 
rends ; “ there will be a way of entering the house 
through it.” 

22 


338 


WALTER HA RMS EN. 


“ To the barn ! to the barn !” were the shouts 
that now filled the air. 

In a few moments the whole band of armed men 
stood within the barn adjoining the house. They 
now diligently sought for some entrance into the 
dwelling. Soon a door was found, but it defied all 
efforts to beat it down ; it was constructed of thick 
oaken boards and securely bolted inside. 

“ Perhaps we can find some way into the house 
from the loft,” cried some. 

“A good idea,” said Koen. “ Here are ladders. 
Come on, mates ! To the loft !” He placed a lad- 
der against a cross-beam, and, taking his short 
sword between his teeth, rapidly climbed aloft. 

But now a strange apparition came upon the 
scene. Dimly seen by the failing light of the 
rapidly-departing day, a woman was observed to 
spring upon the beam, seize the top of the ladder 
with a strong hand and throw it back. Cornelis 
Koen fell upon the stone floor with an imprecation 
upon his lips. 

“ Ha, ha, ha !” laughed the woman on the beam. 

“ By my soul, it is the Gelderland woman !” cried 
Gysbert Barends. 

“ ‘ The Gelderland woman ’ !” cried the other 
Anabaptists. “ Where ? where is she ?” 

“ Up there !” shouted Barends. 

“ Whom do you mean?” inquired Lord John. 

“The Gelderland woman — the crazy one; the 


THE ASSA ULT. 


339 


woman whom you met in our camp the other day, 
and who ran away,” cried several voices. 

Lord John turned deadly pale. 

"Who? Who is it?” he stammered, while, as 
if struck with a sudden paralysis, he tottered, and 
would have fallen if Barends had not caught him. 

“ The crazed Gelderland woman,” reiterated many 
around him. 

“ Ha, ha, ha !” laughed and shrieked the woman. 

Lord John now quickly regained his senses ; his 
momentary fright seemed but to have inflamed his 
already furious wrath. In his anxiety to destroy 
the heretics, and especially Walter Harmsen, he had 
forgotten the flight of the crazed woman ; there she 
was, and almost in his power. As John Williams 
had shown that he could not guard her safely and 
was but making gain out of him by means of her, 
it seemed that the moment had now fortunately 
come when he might finally rid himself of her. 
This living witness of his crime must be for 
ever put out of the way. 

"Oh! the crazy woman, is it?” he exclaimed. 
“ Ten florins to him who captures her. Aloft, men ! 
Some of us will guard the entrance to the barn.” 

Cornel is Koen, eager for the reward, forgot his 
former mishap and raised his ladder again ; Ba- 
rends and others did likewise, and several men at 
once climbed to the loft. But the crazed fugitive 
was nowhere to be found. 


340 


WALTER IIARMSEN. 


“ That woman is a witch,” exclaimed Koen ; 
“she has vanished.” 

“ St. Jacob defend us !” cried the Roman Catho- 
lics, crossing themselves. “ It is dangerous to pur- 
sue witches ; our priest told us so.” 

“ That woman is no witch!” cried Lord John. 
“ Keep a good lookout for her, so that she can’t 
escape this way.” 

“ She has flown,” exclaimed Koen, still up in the 
loft. “ But no! Ha! there she is ! — Hurry, com- 
rades ! She is escaping by the front door. She has 
descended a step-ladder leading down into an inner 
apartment. Hurry ! hurry ! And what more do 
I see? Walter Harmsen ! Yes, and the lady of 
Vlooswyk too ! There they go ! Hasten ! hasten 
around to the front of the house!” 

The men hurried down the ladders, while Lord 
John and those who had remained below hastened 
out of the barn and around to the front of the 
dwelling. But they were too late ; for when they 
reached the front door, they saw a horse, upon 
which sat Walter Harmsen and Jacoba, running 
at a breakneck speed, and the crazed woman after 
them. 

Lord John trembled with disappointed rage. 

“ Can you not overtake them ?” he shouted. 

“ Impossible, Lord John,” replied the men. 

“ Then run and shoot them down.” 

“And the lady of Vlooswyk ?” 


THE ASSA ULT. 


341 


The nobleman hesitated a moment, but his reck- 
less cruelty gained the mastery : 

“I care not whom you hit! Run! pursue them 
to the death !” and, setting the example, he rushed 
in pursuit after the fugitives. 

But these few moments of hesitancy had given 
the fugitives still further advantage over their pur- 
suers. With their departure all was left in quiet- 
ness in the neighborhood of Dykerts’s house ; only 
the dead and the dying and the waste and destruction 
of trees and bushes remained as evidence of the 
late desperate struggle. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


JORIS AT WORK. 

O N his way to the meeting at Dykerts’s farm Wal- 
ter had been met by his friend the ensign, 
who had warned him of danger and sought to 
dissuade him from going; not succeeding in this, 
the officer had promised to come to Walter’s aid 
with a detachment of soldiers. We have seen that 
he did not fulfill that promise : it had not been 
possible for him to keep it. At the moment of 
the assault upon the preaching-service a riot had 
broken out in several of the wards of Utrecht. 
The report had reached the city that the citizens 
of Amersfoort had come into open conflict, that 
several churches had been plundered, the images 
demolished and many people killed, and that the 
riotous populace were now intending to march upon 
Utrecht. Not a soldier could be permitted to leave 
that city. 

Meantime, Walter had succeeded in escaping 
with the Lady Jacoba, and had entrusted the heir- 
ess of Vlooswyk to the keeping of Goert van Reede, 
while he repaired to his grandfather’s house. The 

342 


JOEIS AT WORK. 


343 


poor demented woman, however, had fallen into the 
hands of Koen and Barends. Lord John, promis- 
ing them a liberal reward for their pains, ordered 
them to take the woman by a circuitous route to 
the convent of Our Lady, where he would meet 
them later. 

Meantime, the outbreak in Utrecht was increas- 
ing in violence. In spite of the prompt measures 
which Goert van Reede and the chiefs of the mili- 
tia had taken, the populace had sacked a few houses 
of the more zealous Romanists, entered one or two 
of the churches and committed other outrages, and 
were in hourly expectation of aid from Amersfoort. 

Lord John van Vlooswyk and his fellow-con- 
spirators in instigating the Romish populace had 
reckoned somewhat without their host. No sooner 
was a riotous spirit awakened among the people 
and were they precipitated by the fiery appeals of 
their ecclesiastics into riotous acts than they found 
a much more numerous party ready to play their 
own game on the opposite side. The Romanists 
were overwhelmed, and the Protestant mob, tempt- 
ed to retaliate, committed greater excesses than they 
had intended, as they perceived their strength. 
Thus the riots, which it was thought would re- 
store certain privileges to the Romanists, threat- 
ened to do them incalculable injury. 

As the main reliance of the mob rested on aid 
from Amersfoort, special precautions were taken to 


344 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


prevent the entrance of the outside rioters and their 
junction with those within. Dirk Gapertz, with a 
portion of the States’ troops which formed the 
garrison, had been charged to watch the approach 
to the city from the north-east, while the militia 
would hold in check the populace within the city. 
The ensign had marched his men to an advanta- 
geous position, but scarce had evening descended 
when an officer arrived with a despatch from John 
of Nassau, saying that that he had succeeded in 
suppressing the riot at Amersfoort, so that Utrecht 
need look for no element of disturbance thence. 
Accordingly, the ensign left his position at the 
eastern gate to combine his forces with those at 
the scene of the riot. 

Lord John van Vlooswyk had reached the con- 
vent before the arrival of the two Anabaptists with 
their unfortunate charge. He awaited them at the 
rear gate of the building, and admitted them to the 
small inner court; there he commanded them to 
remain and guard their captive. Then, entering 
the convent by another door, he went straight to 
the cell of the priest Waenders, with whom he 
wished to consult as to what should be done now 
that their plans had turned against themselves and 
the Romish cause. 

It was at a critical moment that Ensign Gapertz 
reached the scene of conflict between the mob and 
the militia. The populace, favored by the darkness 


JORIS AT WORK. 


345 


of the night, marched shouting through the streets, 
and after encountering and routing parties of the 
Romanists in several parts of the city vented their 
rage upon certain buildings and private houses. 
Next they moved as with one impulse toward 
the convent of Our Lady. A fierce conflict raged 
before the front gate, which was bravely defended 
by the adherents of Rome. Neither the command- 
ant of the militia nor Goert van Reede had been 
able to force the lawless mob to retreat, and even 
the arrival of the ensign with his troops had not 
turned the tide of battle. The ensign quickly saw 
that a surprise would throw the undisciplined mob 
into disorder ; he therefore commanded his followers 
to march to the rear of the convent. Provided with 
torches, he would introduce his soldiers into the con- 
vent by scaling the wall of the inner court ; then, 
making their way through the long, wide corridors 
and issuing in front, they would suddenly burst upon 
the fighting masses; or if by that time they had 
already stormed the gate, the soldiers could drive 
them from the building and prevent its being sacked. 

Before the riot had drifted over to this part of 
the city Joris Ruikmans and Father Boniface had 
begun their stealthy approach to that part of the 
convent where was the small open court leading to 
the subterranean prison, with the intent of liberat- 
ing the prisoner. Joris had been careful first to 
assure himself that the priest Waenders was still 


346 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


confined to his bed ; he had seen the fat priest with 
his faithful shadow sitting at his bedside nodding 
and snoring. Now was the time to execute his 
purpose. When Father Boniface heard the uproar 
in the city, he had requested Joris to wait a few 
hours, till all was quiet ; but the nervous dwarf 
would listen to no delay, and Boniface had con- 
sented to accompany him to the dungeon. They 
were just crossing the chancel of the chapel when 
the quick-eared Joris heard a sound which awakened 
his suspicions. 

Leaving Father Boniface, who was somewhat 
timid, to hide where he was, the dwarf crept 
cautiously forward toward the door leading to the 
court, whence the noise seemed to come. He heard 
the outer door open and three or four persons enter 
the place. Listening sharply, he soon distinguished 
a voice which caused him to tremble with excite- 
ment: it was that of Lord John van Vlooswyk, 
who was admitting the Anabaptists. He heard 
him charge them to guard carefully some one who 
seemed to be in their possession, promising soon to 
return. 

Joris had scarce time to hide behind a pew when 
the nobleman entered the chapel and passed to the 
priest’s apartment. The dwarf waited a long time 
to ascertain from the conversation of the men in 
the court who was in their keeping, but, hearing 
nothing except their curses, he went back on hands 


JORIS AT WORK. 


347 


and knees to Father Boniface’s hiding-place and told 
him what had happened. They were at a loss what 
to do, for now their access to the subterranean vault 
was effectually cut off. They suspected that this 
was another victim of Lord John’s cruelty and 
avarice, and that perhaps he had gone for the keys in 
order to place this one too within the horrible dun- 
geon. That dungeon must be opened ; such vil- 
lainies perpetrated within these sacred precincts 
must be exposed. But how was it to be done ? 
They were but two feeble creatures. Necessity, 
however, is the mother of Invention, and the 
quick-witted Joris conceived a possibility of at- 
taining their end. 

“Keep yourself hid for a few moments longer 
in this place,” he said to Father Boniface; “I am 
going out into the court to see what is going on 
there.” 

“ Do not do that, Joris,” expostulated the aged 
Father ; “ let us rather go back to our cells and 
pray to God to help us in this thing.” 

“That is all very well, worthy Father — pray- 
ing is excellent, and therefore our holy Church 
prescribes it — but Ora et labor a, or, as it is in plain 
language , 4 Pray and work,’ is my motto. Methinks 
we could well combine the two in the present 
instance. You pray, and I will work; then we 
must surely succeed.” 

Father Boniface rebuked Joris for his levity, but 


348 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


he saw that there was common sense in the propo- 
sition. 

The dwarf returned to the door leading to the 
court and listened to the conversation without. 

“I tell you, Gysbert,” he heard one say, “I can’t 
stand it here any longer. I have an intolerable 
thirst. This is fine company, this miserable creature 
here ! I wish I were sitting in the Vrede inn; they 
have excellent beer there. How do you feel about 
it?” 

“Oh, don’t talk to me about it, Koen,” said 
the other. “ I don’t see how two such men as we 
are could let ourselves be shut up within this court 
while our brethren are having a fine time of it sack- 
ing some house and emptying its wine-cellar. 
Couldn’t John van Vlooswyk have seen to it 
that we had something to drink? We might 
have stood this stupid work much better then.” 

“ You are right,” replied the first, “ but we can 
console ourselves with thinking that we’ll make 
a nice little sum by this thing. If we only had 
something to wet our throats, we could be perfectly 
happy. But who knows what may happen ? They 
say Lord John has a good turn sometimes.” 

“Yes; perhaps he’ll remember us yet,” said the 
other. “ Hark ! what is that ?” 

At this moment Joris opened the door, and, step- 
ping boldly forth into the court, he called in loud 
tones, 


JORIS AT WORK. 


349 


“Are there not two men here who are guarding a 
prisoner ?” 

“ Yes, yes ! ” was the reply. 

“Very well. Lord John van Vlooswyk bade me 
tell you to repair to the vestry, where you will find 
a good supply of wine. Follow me closely, for it 
is pitch-dark. You can leave the prisoner here, 
for she can’t escape.” 

The two pot-fellows had no reason to doubt 
Joris’s bold words, and needed no second invita- 
tion ; they followed him at once. 

Joris conducted them across the chancel into the 
vestry-room, where he knew there was an ample 
supply of wine. He lighted a lamp, provided the 
men with a well-filled pitcher and left them to 
themselves, taking a lantern with him and softly 
bolting the door after him. 

“So !” he said to himself ; “they are safe, anyhow. 
Methinks that is a good piece of business. It was 
just as well Father Boniface did the praying, but I 
do not think my working was quite in vain.” 

Joris’s training had not rendered his conscience 
sensitive on the point of doing evil that good may 
come. 

The dwarf now approached the aged monk’s hid- 
ing-place, and, having briefly told him what he had 
done, Father Boniface was easily persuaded to pro- 
ceed with their original intention, and followed him 
to the court. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


THE DEAD COME TO LIFE. 

B EFORE Joris and Father Boniface reached 
the little court the cries of the riotous populace 
were heard as they began the attack upon the con- 
vent; soon after, the sound of the heavy sledge- 
hammer blows upon the front gate reverberated 
through the immense building. 

Father Boniface’s heart failed him again, and he 
sought to persuade Joris to abandon their project 
and return to their cells or seek a place of still 
greater safety ; but Joris would not listen to this. 
He said that even if the mob should succeed in 
forcing the front gate it would take some time, and 
they were close to the postern-gate and could easily 
escape : now, more than ever, was the time to open 
the prison. Father Boniface’s fears were overruled 
by little Joris’s masterful spirit. 

When they reached the court, they perceived in 
one corner of it, crouching against the wall, the 
form of a woman ; Joris at once surmised that it 
was the captive left in charge of the Anabaptists. 
Going up to her, he touched her on the shoulder 
and said in a compassionate tone of voice, 

350 


THE DEAD COME TO LIFE. 


351 


“ Who are you ?” 

The woman gave no answer ; and when Joris 
repeated his question, she moaned softly. He let 
the light of the lantern fall upon her features, and 
by their wild expression at once surmised that the 
woman was not in her right mind. 

“ What shall we do with her ?” asked Joris of 
the monk. “ Where shall we take her?” 

“ I do not know,” answered Father Boniface ; 
“ I only know that it is high time for her to quit 
this place. We ought not to leave her here.” 

“By no means,” said Joris, decisively. “We 
must deliver her out of the hands of Lord John 
van Vlooswyk.” 

Joris had scarcely spoken this name when the 
woman began to utter some indistinguishable sounds. 

“What did you say?” asked Joris, kindly. 

“ Vlooswyk ! Jacoba ! Gerard ! Poor man ! Vil- 
lain !” 

“ Is John van Vlooswyk a villain ?” asked Bon- 
iface. 

“ Yes ! yes ! yes !” replied the woman, passion- 
ately. 

“ The poor creature is evidently crazy,” observed 
Joris, “ although her mind seems perfectly sound 
on that subject. What do you think of taking 
her into the chapel and concealing her in one of 
the confessionals?” 

“ That is a good idea,” assented the monk ; “ but 


352 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


make haste, for we shall have to look out for our- 
selves pretty soon. Do you not hear those blows 
against the front gate?” 

“Yes,” observed Joris, coolly, “but it will be a 
good while before they can get to us here.” 

So saying, he was about to assist the woman to her 
feet, when they heard voices within the convent. 
They desisted in affright, and Joris went back to the 
door through which they had just come, to see what 
it meant. He saw far within, along some of the 
upper corridors, the forms of men moving toward 
him, and, although in the darkness he could not 
tell who they were, he conjectured immediately 
that it was Lord John van Vlooswyk, with the two 
priests and the monks, seeking to escape. He heard 
Lord John say, 

“ Fear not, reverend sir ; I have stationed on that 
side some men who will cover our escape. Lean 
upon me, for your steps are yet very feeble.” 

Joris was now in a dilemma. He had with him 
no key to the outer door; and if the nobleman 
found him here instead of the two Anabaptists, he 
might well fear for his life. He hastened back to 
Father Boniface, but scarce had he reached the little 
court when a new danger threatened, for on the 
other side of the wall was heard the sound of 
arms and the voice of a commanding-officer saying, 

“ Set the ladders against this wall and follow me !” 

In the next moment the heads of several soldiers 


THE DEAD COME TO LIFE \ 


353 


appeared over the top of the wall. Ladders were 
next drawn up and let down on the inner side, and 
the men poured into the court. 

Father Boniface uttered an exclamation of sur- 
prise when he recognized in the commanding-officer 
the ensign whom he had entertained in the library. 

“ Sir Ensign/’ he said, stepping up to him, “ do 
you come here as friend or as foe ?” 

“ I am a foe only to evil-doers, worthy Father,” 
said Dirk Gapertz, pleased to find the monk here. 
“ Your presence will aid us in undoing that piece 
of villainy you wot of.” 

Father Boniface pointed to the crazed woman, 
and told Dirk that she had been brought to that 
place by order of Lord John van Vlooswyk. 

“The villain!” exclaimed the ensign. “Would 
he add another crime to his guilty record? But his 
career will soon come to an end.” 

“ Sir Ensign,” cried a soldier from the top of the 
wall, “there is a person here inquiring for you.” 

“ Who is he ?” 

“ He calls himself Walter Harmsen and asks to 
have but a few words with you.” 

“Assist him over the wall,” was the command 
of the ensign. 

A moment later, and Walter had descended into 
the court. His grandfather had insisted upon his 
leaving his bedside to hasten to the convent and see 
what he could do to save Father Boniface from the 


354 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


hands of the mob. Arriving there, he had in- 
quired for the ensign, and had learned that he 
had gone to the postern-gate. The monk and the 
ensign told him in few words the state of affairs. 
Lord John van Vlooswyk and his companions were 
approaching the court, and Joris Ruikmans crossed 
over to the vault, opened the iron door and entered, 
the subterranean passageway to the cell of the 
prisoner. 

Lord John had indeed heard the commotion 
within the court, but, supposing it proceeded from 
some of his own followers — as otherwise the two 
Anabaptists would certainly have given him the 
alarm — he unsuspectingly conducted the feeble 
priest to the chapel door. He had reached it 
and was about to issue from the building when 
the ensign, prepared by Joris for his appearance, 
stepped toward him and said, 

“ I have been ordered to take you into custody, 
Lord John van Vlooswyk. The precincts of this 
convent will afford us ample witness against you 
and your accomplices.” 

The words had scarce left his lips when, before 
Lord John could frame a reply, a cry of distress 
was heard. It was the voice of Joris Ruikmans. 
The cry was repeated : 

“ Here ! here ! Help ! I cannot go any farther ! 
Help!” 

All eyes turn in the direction of the cry; it comes 


THE DEAD COME TO LIFE. 


355 


from within the dark recess of a vault. Torches 
are brought, and an open iron door is seen, upon 
the threshold of which they perceive the dwarf 
trying to sustain the sinking form of a man. 

“Help me! help! He is falling; I cannot hold 
him any longer,” cried Joris again. 

“ Whom have you there ?” the ensign inquired. 

But when the full light of several torches is 
brought to bear upon that prostrate form, a cry 
of astonishment escapes every lip. It is indeed 
a sight of horror. A man emaciated and ghastly 
pale from long imprisonment lies there uncon- 
scious and helpless. His body, loathsome with 
accumulated dirt, is barely covered with rags, and 
the long matted hair and beard straggle over 
his forehead and breast. 

“ It is the prisoner of Lord John van Vloos- 
wyk,” cries Joris; “I have set him free. Four- 
teen years has he been confined in that prison.” 

All hasten to assist Joris, and the unfortunate 
captive is brought out iuto the fresh air. 

Suddenly the crazed woman forces her way 
through the circle of men, and, staring wildly at 
the prostrate form, she exclaims, 

“ Gerard van Vlooswyk !” 

At these words the man opens his eyes, gazes 
earnestly and long upon the woman’s features, 
and, stretching forth his arms, he cries, 

“ Jacoba !” 


356 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


Meantime, Lord John van Vlooswyk stood near 
the entrance to the chapel, guarded by the soldiers 
whom the ensign had ordered to apprehend him, 
while he himself followed his men to the vault 
to ascertain the reason of Joris’s cry. 

The confusion occasioned by the movement of so 
many men had prevented Lord John from hearing 
what was going on in that part of the court, and 
he suspected nothing of the real state of the case, 
as he deemed it impossible that any one could have 
discovered the secret door within the vault. When 
there broke upon the awed silence caused by the 
sight of so much misery the two cries “ Gerard van 
Vlooswyk ! ” and “ Jacoba ! ” a sudden terror shook 
his frame. He tried to flee, but could not. Then, 
driven as by an irresistible impulse, he rushed to 
the spot where lay the two victims. 

The ensign, pointing to the affecting scene, said 
to him, 

“Behold your work, monster of iniquity ! Your 
day of reckoning has come. God pity your miser- 
able soul !” 

John van Vlooswyk staggered back in horror 
and affright, while the priest Waenders fell to the 
ground in a swoon. 

At this moment little Joris approached the con- 
science-smitten nobleman and hissed into his ear, 

“ Did I not tell you that you would soon find 
what it meant to insult Joris Ruik mans ?” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


REUNIONS AND FAREWELLS. 

T HE riot was suppressed and quiet restored with- 
in the city. Goert van Reede had remained in 
consultation with the magistracy throughout the 
entire night, and held conferences with both the 
Protestant preachers and the Romish ecclesiastics. 
As a result of these deliberations, a number of 
priests were ordered to leave the city as speedily as 
possible, while to the Reformed was granted the 
use of certain church-buildings in addition to those 
already in their possession. By these measures the 
Reformed party’s claims were satisfied, and, although 
the Romanists naturally found much fault, they 
were compelled to yield. The firm attitude of the 
head-sheriff and his unshaken adherence to the 
terms of the union produced a wholesome effect. 
He enthusiastically commended the important ser- 
vices which had been rendered him by Dirk Ga- 
pertz, and took pains to mention these in a special 
letter to Count John of Nassau. 

That same night John van Vlooswyk and the 
priest Waenders were placed in ward. A few days 

357 


358 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


later their trial took place ; many crimes were laid 
to their charge, and, as they could bring in no 
defence, they were sentenced to perpetual banish- 
ment from the Seven Provinces and the confisca- 
tion of their goods. 

The unfortunate Gerard van Vlooswyk had been 
during fourteen years the victim of the villainy of 
these men. Scarce three years married, he was 
enjoying with a tenderly-beloved wife and a little 
daughter of about sixteen months the very heights 
of domestic bliss, when his happiness was suddenly 
destroyed. His brother John, having in some way 
forfeited his inheritance, determined to secure by 
fraud and violence that which he could not right- 
fully obtain. An intimacy had sprung up between 
himself and a man of kindred nature, the priest 
Waenders. The latter, not less unscrupulous, but 
more cunning in his wickedness, devised means of 
securing what John desired. The Anabaptists had 
come into the neighborhood; by his advice John had 
visited their camp, and had gained their king’s con- 
sent to aid him. A band of his followers beset Lord 
Gerard van Vlooswyk at a lonely spot to which he 
had been decoyed, and, having bound and gagged 
him, they conveyed him under cover of the night 
to the convent of Our Lady. There, by the aid 
of the priest, he was, as it were, buried alive. 

Another party of the Anabaptists, meanwhile, 
secured the person of Lady van Vlooswyk. Anxiety 


REUNIONS AND FAREWELLS. 


359 


and fright deprived her of reason, so that it was dif- 
ficult to detain her in the camp. More than once 
she escaped with her child, on one occasion suc- 
ceeding in crossing the borders into Gelderland. 
It was at this time that the encounter took place 
which was witnessed by the preacher Sopingius. 
The child was now taken away from her, and Lord 
John assumed the guardianship of it, spreading the 
report that its parents had been captured by the 
enemy and put to death. The period was favor- 
able for the general credence of such a report, for 
the country was passing through its earliest strug- 
gles against the oppression of Spain and much 
lawlessness prevailed. 

There was one man, however, who had always 
doubted the truth of this report, and that was Count 
John of Nassau, who had been an intimate friend of 
Lord Gerard ; but he had lacked the opportunity of 
investigating the matter until the union of Utrecht 
had been effected and he, as director of it, had been 
invested with authority within the province. The 
only thing he had been able to effect was to prevent 
the estate of Vlooswyk from passing uncondition- 
ally into the hands of Lord John; the child was 
declared sole heiress, and in case of her death the 
lands and property were to revert to the state. 
Thus her uncle could only enjoy the benefit of 
her father’s property while acting as her guardian, 
and the scheme of possessing himself of it perma- 


360 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


nently by forcing her to marry him had presented 
itself to his mind. 

After so long a period of wretchedness and suf- 
fering, it was indeed a glad day for Lord Gerard 
van Vlooswyk when with his wife and child he 
once more was permitted to occupy his castle. Lady 
Vlooswyk’s mind, which had been affected only 
during certain months of the year, was eventual- 
ly restored to its former balance, the cause of her 
frenzied grief having been removed. It was a 
delightful surprise to the father to behold his 
little daughter transformed into a blooming maid- 
en of sixteen. On the day of their return to their 
home, bonfires were lighted upon the grounds ; and 
while the country-people outside held a jubilee and 
regaled themselves with the good things provided, 
fervent words of thanksgiving fell from the lips of 
the restored husband and father. 

Walter Harmsen, his friend the ensign, Walter’s 
grandfather and the aged Boniface were entertained 
at the castle, nor was little Joris forgotten. 

Father Boniface renounced a Church so many of 
whose errors he had already detected, and whose in- 
stitutions he could no longer endure. He adhered 
heartily to the doctrines of the Reformed, being 
much encouraged and instructed by conversations 
with the aged Harmsen, at whose house he was 
hospitably received when he left the convent. 
When Walter’s grandfather died, Lord Gerard 


REUNIONS AND FAREWELLS. 


361 


appointed Boniface to a position at the castle, and 
there — where Joris Ruikmans also was retained in 
honorable service — the whilom monk passed his 
declining days until he was called to his rest. 

On one of the early days in the month of Au- 
gust four young men might have seen walking 
together in cheerful conversation upon the road to 
Amersfoort between Castle ter Heide and the Vrede 
inn. When within view T of the latter place, one of 
their number said, 

“I am sorry, Walter, that we are so near the 
hour when we must take leave of one another. It 
was my desire, as it lay in my way, to part from 
you at the inn where we first met after so many 
years of separation.” 

“ I too am sorry, dear Dirk,” replied Walter 
Harmsen, “ that the hour of parting is so near, 
but I trust it will not be so many years as before 
ere we meet again.” 

“This too is my fervent wish, Walter. But we 
must wait upon the will of the Lord ; we know 
not what he has in store for us : you know how 
precarious is the life of a soldier. But if we never 
meet again on earth, we have a country beyond the 
grave, a city not made with hands, eternal in the 
heavens, where we assuredly shall meet never to 
part again.” 

“ Those are somewhat sombre thoughts, my 


362 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


friends,” said a third young man, in a light tone of 
voice — “rather too sombre for this bright, sun- 
shiny day.” 

“Very proper thoughts for any day, Arminius,” 
a fourth remarked, turning sharply upon the last 
speaker. “ Do you not know that the Lord bids 
us be at all times prepared for death?” 

“Dear Brully,” interposed Arminius, “could 
you not adduce a text from your favorite Isaiah 
upon that subject?” 

“ I had better admonish you first to speak with 
more reverence of God’s holy word. That topic 
admits of no frivolity.” 

“ My friends,” observed the ensign, “ do not let 
me part from you with disputations upon your lips. 
I know that it is not ill-meant, but I cannot forget 
a proverb of my old parish priest of Egmond: 
i They who often quarrel do as the devil wants 
them.’ ” 

“You are right, Dirk,” remarked Walter. “It 
is to be hoped that, now that Arminius is about to 
go to Germany to pursue his studies, he will begin 
to take a more serious view of things ; and when 
Brully shall be enjoying the privilege of listening 
to the profound theological lectures of Professor 
Donnellusat Leyden University, I trust he will not 
forget to ‘ love the brethren.’ But my own lecture 
is getting to be rather a long one ; so that we shall 
all be glad that we have reached the inn. And 


REUNIONS AND FAREWELLS. 


363 


see ! there stands our friend Dykerts in the door- 
way. — How are you, Dykerts? — And you, mine 
host ?” 

The four young men entered the inn and shook 
hands cordially with the peasant and the innkeeper. 
Dykerts had received some hard knocks in the fight 
around his house, but after the assailants left he 
recovered consciousness and found himself pos- 
sessed of sufficient strength to enter his house ; he 
soon was as hale and hearty as ever. The inn- 
keeper had suffered longer, as his arm was broken 
during the fray ; but his hurt too was now a thing 
of the past. 

The friends remained together several hours, 
their pleasant intercourse not now disturbed, as 
once it had been, by interlopers. They congratulated 
one another that Count John of Nassau had suc- 
ceeded in ridding the province of the Anabaptists, 
and speculated upon the sentence that would be 
awarded to Koen and Barends, who had been ar- 
rested not only for complicity with the kidnapping 
of Jacoba, but also for many other more recent of- 
fences in which they had been concerned, and which 
were proven against them. 

Finally the hour arrived which had been fixed 
for the parting. The ensign took cordial leave of 
Arminius and Brully, and then Walter and he left 
the inn together, and the two friends separated at a 
little distance from the house. 


364 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


“ The Lord guide you, dear friend and brother !” 
said Walter, deeply agitated. “May his right hand 
preserve you in battle against temporal foes, but 
may he also keep your heart firm in wrestling 
against spiritual enemies and grant you many" 
victories in the ways of grace !” 

“Farewell, my dearest Walter,” replied the en- 
sign, equally moved. “ It has done my heart good 
to meet you again, for I can never forget that it 
was you whose words led me to give my love and 
my service to Jesus. The Lord reward you ! And 
may he be with you upon all those journeys through 
this land whereby you will carry the gospel to so 
many hearts and homes ! Farewell ! and if it 
should be that this is the last time we meet in 
the flesh, it will not be the last time that we see 
each other.” 

The friends embraced tenderly, and then reluc- 
tantly parted. 

The ensign took the road to Amersfoort; Ar- 
minius and Brully were already on their way to 
Utrecht; while Walter turned his footsteps slowly 
and pensively into the road that led to the castle 
of Vlooswyk. He was yet a few hundred paces 
from the forester’s house, when he was suddenly 
awaked from his meditations by the voice of Ja- 
coba, who was about to enter the house, but on 
seeing him had come to welcome him. 

“ How glad I am to see you !” she said as they 


REUNIONS AND FAREWELLS. 


365 


drew near each other. “ I did not expect you 
to-day.” 

“ My friend was compelled to leave earlier than 
he intended,” replied Walter, after returning her 
greeting, “ and, as I had promised Lord van Vloos- 
wyk a visit before my departure, I make use of my 
superfluous hours to-day.” 

Jacoba’s lips began to tremble, and tears stood in 
her eyes as she replied, 

“ It is not kind of you to remind me of your 
departure so soon after our meeting, when I was 
just rejoicing that you had come.” She spoke with 
that childlike frankness that was characteristic of 
her. 

Walter was too noble and too wise to take advan- 
tage of this pure and sisterly affection and seek to 
deepen it into anything else. His mind was made 
up, and his life-work was before him. The day of 
struggle had now gone by, therefore he replied 
gently, 

“My dear Lady Jacoba, pardon me if against 
my will I have caused you any grief, but you 
knew that I was to leave this province very soon. 
As you are aware, my aged grandfather died 
four weeks ago, and now nothing remains to bind 
me to Utrecht.” 

“Nothing?” asked Jacoba. “ Are there, then, 
no men, women and children in these regions whom 
you have brought to the knowledge of Jesus? And 


366 


WALTER HARMSEN. 


do you forget that there is one especially who shall 
ever remember to her dying-day those happy hours 
which we spent together in that house yonder while 
we read and studied God’s word, and who regards 
you — ” She suddenly ceased speaking, and blushed 
deeply. 

“ No, dear lady, I shall never forget those hours, 
and the remembrance of them nearly breaks my 
heart; but the love of souls moves me to depart 
and go elsewhere. Thousands are yet entangled in 
the snares of Romish superstition ; they cry for the 
bread of life, and through lack of laborers they 
are left to famish. I must — I must — go : the Lord 
calls me; and, though it pains me to leave many 
who love me, and whom I love in return — though 
it grieves me more than all to part from you — I 
must say with Paul, ‘ The love of Christ constrain- 
ed me.’ ” 

For several minutes neither could speak a word. 
They slowly walked past the forester’s house up 
the path to the castle. 

Jacoba’s heart beat vehemently. The conflict 
between her love for him who had first preached to 
her the word of her salvation and submission to the 
will of God was a severe one, but it did not last 
long. She was the first to speak again, and, look- 
ing at Walter through her tears, she said tenderly 
but firmly, 

“ Go, my friend, and may the Lord go with you ! 


REUNIONS AND FAREWELLS. 


367 


That to which God calls you perform, and let no 
one venture to hinder you. I will not tempt you 
to abandon your work, but my prayers shall be as 
guardian angels round about you.” Thus speak- 
ing, she entered the castle with him. 


THE END. 

































. 



















. 





















































































































